


Trying to Help

by demigirl17



Series: Little one series [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demigirl17/pseuds/demigirl17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John's latest mission lands them on the planet Nivek. Inhabited by fellow humanoids the boys are called into help find the cause of two other missing children as well as Jedi padawans. With the clan of trained Acolytes from Sherlock's past stealing children Sherlock faces the desire to send John home. Whatever he chooses, it will cost him. Greatly. Sequel to Little One</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John wasn't used to eating survival food.

His nose wrinkled in distain at the half cooked mountain rat the village women had been kind enough to share. His master took another large, nauseatingly bloody bite. Red liquid spurted down the elder's chin, shimmering brightly in the fire light. John took a small, hesitant bite of his.

It tasted like rubbish.

Bile rose in his throat as he placed the mountain rat's carcass back to his plate. The fire crackled nosily as John tried to steady himself by breathing through his nose. Smoke filtered through his lowered guard, sending him into a coughing fit.

He hated Nivek.

"Jedi do not hate, little one."

The boy was certain the Jedi could read his mind.

John pouted at the older man. Sherlock wiped the blood from his chin and motioned for the shivering child to come to him. John obeyed hurriedly and the knight graced him by pulling the child against his side warmly. John snuggled in tightly, desperate for heat, maybe even crisps if he could scam them from Sherlock.

The Jedi held out an open palm with the undercooked meat inside.

"It is a great insult to turn down precious food and prepare it any other way." Sherlock noted John eyeing the fire.

John said nothing as he worked on soften Sherlock's heart. He hid his face in the strong side of his teacher and whimpered. "They didn't teach us how to stomach rubbish, Master."

Sherlock remained silent for only a moment. "Then I will eat it. They did teach you to fast, did they not?"

John glared at the rat and seriously contemplated taking the offer of fasting.

His master pressed the food into his hand for him.

Kriffing Sherlock.

John bit it grudgingly, he made sure to direct the stream of blood in Sherlock's direction. It was redirected with a lazy flick of the Force. John whined at the unfairness of his master's power, Sherlock merely shrugged.

"It is revolting, Master."

"Think of it as a learning exercise, John," Sherlock said quietly. "Never complain about my cooking again."

"I hardly find this lesson fair." John crossed his arms in annoyance.

"It if it makes you feel better, little one, mountain rat do not contain bacteria."

"Truly, Master?"

"No, John. I simply thought you would feel comforted in hearing it."

Evil hundark.

Swiftly John's fingers delved into his pocket and pulled his mini-saber. He singed the bottom of his portion without any villagers noticing and popped it in his mouth. Now it tasted like cooked rubbish.

"Tastes like chiszzk."

John resentfully finished his rat, burning each bit when the villagers weren't looking. Sherlock snickered as John put his saber back into his inner pocket. Keeping the fire close to him, John leaned fully into his teacher. Exhaustion swept through him like flowing water. Sherlock's arm circled him carefully.

A village elder was walking curiously over to the pair. The native people were humanoids and luckily spoke only basic, but still seemed cautious of the off worlders.

Nivek was swarmed with children snatchers, or as they were called on that planet shadow people. Sherlock had volunteered to conduct a search for the missing children. The elders seemed desperate to have their children back When the elders offered him payment he waved it away.

Children were involved.

He needed no payment.

"Jedi?" The elder called Sebastian stepped toward the knight and now sleeping boy. John snored softly against Sherlock's side.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as he hoisted John bridal style into his arms. The boy's head lolled into Sherlock's chest, drool dribbled gracelessly down his chin. The nivekian frowned.

"Eddie, you will find my Eddie?"

"I have offered you my help already, Sebastian. That is all I can do until I find more data on these kidnappings."

The elder seemed agitated. "If someone took him," a finger was jabbed at the sleeping child, "would you rest? Would wait until data was found?"

Sherlock glared at him angrily. "Well I would not stall the investigator."

The knight shoved pass him coldly, John balanced in the crook of his elbow. They had been given an average sized hut to sleep in, with only one bed. John hadn't seemed distressed over the thought of sharing a bed. Sherlock padded across the dirt floor, John's bare feet dangled out the side of his master's arms.

The cruel little boy had grown in their three months off Coruscant and refused to wear boots that "pinched" his feet.

Sherlock pulled the flap to their hut open and slid in. John barely stirred as Sherlock lay him on the small bed. Oblivious to the world, but still able to move, John lifted his arms over his head as Sherlock pulled off his soiled tunic. Carefully it was replaced by a larger, cleaner one.

Sherlock's.

John hummed pleasantly as Sherlock plopped him back onto the bed. He scooted to the left until his back met marsh wall. His teacher pulled off his own tunics and threw them to the floor. He threw himself onto the bed so the boy bounced a few feet above the cot. John giggled fiercely as he rolled onto his master's chest.

"Good night, Master."

"Good night, little one."

Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear gently, John mirrored the affectionate gesture.

Nightmares were so much rarer if Sherlock was with him.

oOo

"Dominus."

His father was pointing to the black eyed man whose stench reeked of decaying flesh. The toddler looked at his bare feet, his mother's hand felt soft in his own. His father reached down to snatch the small chin. "Dominus," he repeated sternly.

"Dominus," the child said tearfully. The putrid man grinned evilly as the toddler called him "master" in his native tongue. Sherlock peered at his mother, wanting to be picked up. He had done as his father commanded, he had spoken to his father's friend, he had referred to him as "dominus", now he wanted his mother. Sherlock reached for her, but she would not look at him. "Mummy, up please. Thank you."

His mother did not reach for him, she only glanced at his father. "Please, Jovian. One more time, he is my baby." His mother began to cry, Sherlock became mortified at the sight of his mother's tears. His baby plump hand twisted in her skirts.

"Mama, up," the toddler begged. His father frowned at the pair. His weak wife and his weaker son. "Mama," the boy cried again. When neither his mother nor father lifted him he stalked over to the black eyed man. "Dominus, up?" The boy pointed towards his mother.

The evil lord smirked at the boy's request. "No."

"Up." Sherlock stamped his foot.

"Hand me his papers, Jovian. I wish to teach my new pet a lesson." The man leaned closer to Sherlock, who took a frightened step back.

"No!" Sherlock shouted. "Not pet. Sherlock!"

His mother ran to her son and swept him up into her arms. "Hush now, sweetheart."

"Mama," the boy said, relieved. Sherlock lay his dark head on her shoulder. His mother scented him silently.

"Forgive my former mate." Jovian threw the mother of his children a filthy glare. "She forgets we seek my eldest child. My precious Island."

Sherlock whimpered at the mention of his brother. His mother's grip tightened.

"Jovian-"

"Enough. Give the boy to his dominus," Jovian commanded firmly.

"He can be strong…like his brother before him. Why can't you…"

"Give the boy to his master, Laila."

The woman hesitated. "Sherlock, remember Mummy loves you, okay? If you are ever lonely remember that." She nipped his ear lightly.

"Mama?" The boy's icy blue eyes were so like his father. Sherlock was the very spit of Jovian, but the child's name prevent him from seeing that. She kissed his brow before passing him over to the black eyed man.

"Be very good, Sherlock. Be very good."

"Yes, Mama."

Sherlock waved until his father steered his mother away. His new dominus rested a tight hand on the boy's shoulder. Sherlock swallowed hard. "Dom-"

It was the first time he had ever been struck in his life.

oOo

John frantically pulled away from sleep and his teacher.

Sherlock received several painful blows to the face and chest, it was he could do to reign the child in.

"John! John! Little one, be still!"

"He hit you! Master, he hit you!"

_You're hitting me!_

Forcing his mind through his apprentices tightened shields, Sherlock began pressing his will on the child's. Soothing waves tried to caress John's mind, but he would have none of it.

Sherlock was trying hold on to the squirming padawan, but John struggled against him. Limbs were kicking and hitting everywhere, John would not be calmed. Sherlock pressed the small blond head against his shoulder.

"Little one," he said softly. "Little one, we have been over this."

"B-but, you were so small."

Sherlock rocked the child gently, he debated standing but thought better of it. John was already curling into a tiny ball in his arms.

"I was abused, John. But it has passed and we will keep our minds on the present moment. Delete it, little one."

John sniffled into his teacher's neck. "Yes, Master."

Sherlock stroked a calming hand over the boy's back. John was relaxing into him, but his psyche refused to rest. Harsh currents of pain were washing through him. Unsettled thoughts slammed over their bond.

"John, you must sleep."

Sherlock rose with the boy clasped close to him and sought out a traveling bag. John's stomach let out a rumble worthy of a rancor mating call. Silently he withdrew a packet of crisps and broke the seal. John sniffed the air carefully.

"If you accept them it means you will sleep."

John took a salty crisp between his fingers and bit down. His eyes fluttered with joy at the taste of normal food. The bag was devoured in minutes.

"Thank you," John said tiredly.

"Less useless now?"

"Less useless now," John confirmed. "Could be a bit less mean to me."

Sherlock waved the insult away lazily and lay back down with John held close. The boy nestled into his teacher's arms, Sherlock's heart beat knocked gently against his cheek. John smiled at the acknowledgment of life.

"I'm sorry I woke you," John muttered.

"If you are truly sorry go back to sleep." Sherlock stroked his back tenderly, John made a near purring sound. Sherlock snickered softly.

"Master, are the stolen children Force sensitive?" The boy was trying to work out the reasoning behind stealing children. His power of deduction were far less than those of his teacher.

"I don't believe so, John. They are merely sons of great elders in villages."

John poked Sherlock lightly in the chest. "You know who took them, don't you?" John sounded pleased.

"Why do you say that?" Sherlock asked surprised.

"You know everything, Master," John said proudly.

"I simply observe," Sherlock said fondly.

John listened to the cries of different animals outside their hut. Sleep seemed impossible, despite his promise to his master. Sherlock carded a soft hand through his hair, carefully lulling the boy into a feeling of security. Slowly John traced a faded scar across his mentor's chest and snarled softly. The knight rolled onto his side, taking John with him and curled around the small body.

"Tell me about this one."

Lately John had been begging for stories about each one of Sherlock's scars. The knight preferred not to speak of his past, but John was persistent.

A boy looking for a bed time story.

"That one was from Master Dooku," the knight said with his eyes half closed. Many Jedi thought he did not enjoy sleep when the truth was he often craved it. Before John he had slept often, not taking missions that were anything under an eight.

Now with John anything over a seven was not something he wanted the youth accompanying him on.

"He insisted that I was old enough to spare him alone, with saber set to three-fourths their power."

"But that is still powerful enough to kill," John gasped in shock.

"Dull observation, John. Why else do you think it scarred?"

"How old were you?" John tucked his forehead under Sherlock's chin as he often did when tired. Sherlock pondered briefly.

"About fifteen."

Thirteen.

"Hundark," John hissed.

"Padawan," Sherlock warned. He did not mind John insulting a Jedi master, but Huttese swear words were beneath his apprentice. John was too intelligent to have vulgar words on his tongue. But he foresaw the boy knowing a string of swear words in the future.

He sighed.

"So…you were kind of a mama's boy. Weren't you, Master?"

Blast the child to the nine hells.


	2. Chapter 2

"Obi Wan."

John kept his voice low as he instructed his holodisk to hail his new friend. They had met through their masters and had almost immediately grown fond of each other. John liked the idea of an older brother, and Obi Wan seemed more than willing to comply. The two children of Stewjon had begun seeking each other out for sparring partners. Obi was a genius with the saber. John…needed all the help he could get.

Sherlock was brewing morning tea nearby, after striking the flint beneath the pot a tiny flame flickered to life.

There wasn't much time.

A tiny image of his friend flickered in his palm.

"Benke!" John said happily.

"Hello there," Obi Wan said warmly. "I thought you were supposed to call when you were settled." A tiny frown line appeared over the other boy's brow.

"Took us a bit," John murmured shyly. It had taken them three months to settle into a village. The first one had chased them through the thickets with threats of hangings. "People here…don't like Jedi much."

"Off worlders," Obi Wan corrected gently. "They do not like off worlders in general."

John rolled his eyes. Obi Wan sounded like a softer Sherlock. "It made it difficult to find a village to take us, but Master Sherlock figured it out."

Obi Wan chuckled. "If anyone could, it would be Master Sherlock."

John beamed. Obi Wan took after Qui Gon, judging a person solely on their attitude and not rumors. John missed his older brother, his benke, slightly. Mike had always tried to brother him, but John had passed the other boy in many ways. Obi Wan was stronger, wiser than him. It was nice not having someone less intelligent than him try to baby him.

Force help him, he sounded like Sherlock.

A boot slammed into the back of his buttocks cruelly.

Speaking of his master.

"I have to go," John muttered sorely, throwing Sherlock a dirty look.

Obi Wan raised his hand in a calm farewell. "Be safe, John."

"You too, Benke."

John clicked off his holodisk. Strangely a strong feeling of contentment washed over him. Picking up Sherlock's boot he launched it back at the knight's head, his master evaded it easily. John grinned.

A brother, a mother, a grandfather, and a father, what child could want more?

John knelt in front of his master for morning tea, two bowls sat before him waiting to be filled. John took the kettle and poured tea into each bowl over a small slice of fruit. He kowtowed before Sherlock until the first sip was taken, he straightened himself and retrieved his own tea bowl.

Drinking the warm liquid was bliss.

Sherlock made the greatest tea John had ever tasted, even temple's tea was nowhere near Master's brew.

Traditionally tea was taken with absolute silence. The mind was cleared and company was enjoyed between master and student. John sipped his tea thoughtfully.

_Master, where will we be going today?_

_Traditionally mind and body are silent at tea, little one._

_Oh._

John didn't want gobble his tea, he wanted to savor it.

But he also had questions.

_But where, Master?_

"John," Sherlock snapped aloud, causing John to start. The boy bowed his head over his tea in embarrassment.

"It was just a question."

"This isn't the time for questions, young one."

John flinched at the term that wasn't used in endearment. "Sorry."

"No need for apology if the offense isn't repeated," Sherlock said shortly.

"Yes, Master."

John finished his tea soon after. All that arguing and no location. It didn't seem fair that Sherlock could chide him, but not answer a simple question. John lay the bowl down slowly and waited. His master finished soon after.

"I'm sorry," the boy said half-heartedly. "I didn't mean to…"

"The village archives," Sherlock interrupted him shortly. "Less advanced than the temple's, but I need to see what those irregular scratches mean."

Where ever a child had been taken there had been deep scratch marks in the soil. A small – and /8. Sherlock had looked them over closely, always the same symbol dug.

John nodded eagerly.

"And I can come."

"Will you obey me?"

"Yes."

_Probably._

"Little one." Sherlock pulled John closer to him briefly. His hand rest behind the soft blond hair and gently held the small boy against his forehead. John leaned into his master gratefully.

"I will," the child sighed.

"Then yes. You may come."

"Whoopee!" John skipped around their campsite excitedly. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he cleaned up their morning tea, his padawan flipped happily about him. Sherlock caught him around the middle and pulled him into a soft tussle. John ended up pinned beneath his teacher after only seconds of wrestling. The boy snorted.

Sherlock released his hostage after nipping the small ear. John grinned up at him.

They departed shortly after then single sun rose over the planet's horizon. John was fascinated with the idea of one sun, but Sherlock cared little for the solar systems. John kept his questions to himself. They trudged through Nivek's marshy area side by side silently. John's bare feet wiggled in the cooling mud.

"Master, the archives are this way," John corrected as Sherlock started down the wrong path.

"Yes, but the children who were taken all gathered at this place." Sherlock directed a finger at a small market place. John frowned at the suspicious looking meat that hung in the doorway.

Mountain rat.

Kriff that.

John scowled at the rank smelling meat and leaned closer to Sherlock. "How do you know that?"

Sherlock flipped a pocket sized book in John's direction. Without thinking John caught it gracefully and peeked inside it. A name was scribbled in the right corner. It was Eddie Van Coon's father's book. Another leather bound diary sailed through the air, Brian Lukis's father's. All with trackings of their son's mysterious meetings in different places.

"They were starting a rebellion against their father's rule. Eddie's father wants him back to imprison him, not to coddle him," Sherlock sounded bitter, his hand snaked out to gently tug on John's padawan braid. John rolled his eyes,

"They are only thirteen, Master!" John thumbed through the diary unconvinced. "Where would the get the means to rebel?" John couldn't imagine rebelling against his fat-master.

"Deduce, John. Who would want a neutral planet so close to Coruscant?"

John stopped in his tracks, his eyes flew to Sherlock's face. His small body trembled viscously. "M-Moriarty?" When his master nodded the boy flinched horribly. "He wants to use this planet as a base for his Acolytes, and he tricked those other kids into helping."

"Likely." Sherlock pulled John against his leg gently.

"But why does he need Jedi padawans?"

It was the one thing John completely shielded from Sherlock, his reoccurring nightmare of being taken by the Sith. Since Moran had tried to train him on Stewjon the boy had been in complete fear of the dark side. John knew it wasn't wise to harbor such fears, especially when Sherlock would always protect him. No one could enslave him while Sherlock was around. But Moran had made John obey him by threatening Sherlock.

John had called Moran "Master", only once. Only to visit his teacher.

And Moran had broken Master's leg anyway.

John wanted to hide himself in Sherlock's side, but his master was already ducking into the shop.

Steadying himself in the Force John followed Sherlock in closely.

"You didn't answer my question," John said crossly.

Sherlock carded a gently hand through the child's short blond hair, but remained silent.

"Mas-"

"Little one, it is no good telling you a ghost story when you are already frightened."

John buried his fears deep in his chest. "I am not afraid, sir," he stated proudly. Master had little faith in him because he was young, but when he grew up they could go on all sorts of adventures without fear.

"Then accept my silence as a you-don't-need-to-know," Sherlock ordered shortly.

John muttered about Sherlock being unfair, the knight raised a stern eyebrow. John rolled his eyes before darting off to look at the shops items. Sherlock sighed heavily as John nearly knocked over a display of oddly shaped clocks. The boy blushed as the store keeper ran out shaking her fist at him and ran back to Sherlock, who smirked down at him.

"You either buy, or get out!" The woman's basic was shakey. "I don't care what no one says, off worlders very bad!"

John shrank into Sherlock side as the store keeper pulled out a small knife and waved it through the air. Part of him wanted to pull out his saber, but Sherlock stilled him. "Nivekians speak basic, but not you. How hypocritical of you." He gave John a gentle nudge towards what looked like playthings. John took the hint and tramped away from his mentor.

Sherlock was trying to reason with insane female, but was getting nowhere. Insulting others' intelligence wasn't a very good way to go about making friends, but whenever John informed Master of that it was shrugged off. The storekeeper made a swing for Sherlock.

The knight ducked effortlessly and caught the female's wrist in his hand. He yanked the knife away from her hand and tossed it to John. The boy caught the hilt easily and laid it by a toy. A piece of paper brushed his hand delicately. John blinked down at it.

"Sherlock!"

His master looked from the angry store keeper pounding on his chest to his padawan. John waved the piece of paper in front of him like a mad bantha. Sherlock moved towards him carefully keeping himself between the vengeful shopkeeper and his padawan.

"The scribbles, Master!" John eagerly thrust the paper in his mentor's hands. Sherlock glanced down at the small scrap in his hand, his eyes widened slightly. "Not useless," John giggled.

"No," Sherlock muttered softly, quiet pride slipped into his voice. "Not useless at all.

John beamed at the praise.

"What language is this?" Sherlock demanded heatedly towards the shopkeeper. "Three Jedi padawans and two Nivekian children are messing. Tell me."

The woman blanched and fearfully told them it was from the planet Korriban. Only John noticed Sherlock's small flinch. Carefully the boy nudged him, but Sherlock brushed him off. John tried not to look hurt.

"We need to get to the archives," Sherlock hissed. He darted out the store door without even looking back for John. The child inched fearfully around the shopkeeper.

"Master!" John ran in his master's foot prints, Sherlock didn't slow. Sliding in mud John used the momentum to propel himself to Sherlock's side. "Master! What is Korriban?" John stumbled. "Slow down will you?!"

Sherlock stopped abruptly, John crashed into the back of his legs with a small "oof". His master glanced down at him with a furious look that caused John to shrink away.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I just-" John stuttered, not quite sure what he was sorry for. Sherlock softened slightly.

"It isn't you," he said brusquely.

"Oh!" John was relieved. "Yeah, okay."

Master still made him feel like poodoo, even though he was innocent everything.

Sherlock carded a soft hand through his hair tenderly. John stared up at him worriedly, Sherlock pushed John away lightly and knelt. Despite the mud gathering around his knees, Sherlock looked completely dignified.

"If I were to call Mycroft to come take you home how angered would you be?" he asked with mild concern.

"You can't!" John gripped his master's shoulders. "You can't! You promised!"

Sherlock did not still John as the boy shook him fiercely. He simply allowed the child to rattle him around until John was too weak to move him. Sherlock stared into the sky blue eyes challengingly.

"John-"

"You said I could help! You said!"

"Little one-"

"I can help, Master! Just like in the shop. Please!"

"John!" Sherlock shouted. John immediately released his teacher's shoulders and bowed his head. He quivered slightly. Sherlock took an annoyed breath in and looked away. "Qui Gon then. You will stay with him and his pada-"

"But you said…" John whispered. Moisture collected in his eyes but did not fall, he had been practicing. No more crying.

Sherlock caught the boy's chin and made him look up. "Things change, John."

The boy shivered at the words, he wanted to pull himself free from Sherlock, but made himself stay still. He changed tactics swiftly, glaring defiantly into his mentor's eyes. Sherlock did not waver.

"Little one, I would not make you leave without just cause." Sherlock placed a callused hand on John's smooth cheek. The boy caught the hand and pressed his face into the palm, shaking his head against it.

"But you would make me leave." John's lower lip trembled. "I don't want to leave you. Please, Master."

Sherlock scratched behind the boy's ear carefully. A small mew escaped through his padawan's lips as he nuzzled closer to him. Sherlock rose slowly, popping out the stiffness in his knees as he looked down at his child. "Would you like to learn something, little one?"

"Learn something? What sort of something?"

Sherlock sighed in relief as John turned away from his fear of leaving. He guided John towards the archives by the shoulders.

"Come."


	3. Chapter 3

"Wake up, John!"

The boy's head snapped up from his reading tablets, his eyes were unfocused and tired. With an odd gurgle his stomach growled with the fierceness of seventy Sith Lords screaming. Sherlock glared at him, unimpressed with his lack of interest. His child apologetically bowed his head.

"S-Sorry. It's been ages, Master." John wiped his eyes sleepily. Master never seemed tired, it was hardly fair that he was a fountain of energy. John was surprised to find ink splotches on his hands and arms. No doubt his face to, but he couldn't see that.

Sherlock was snickering softly.

There was most definitely ink on his face.

He threw a tablet at his master's face, but it was deflected easily. Both Jedi glared at their work before Sherlock flew over the table and wrestled his impudent brat to the floor. John was eating dirt when his master spoke.

"I thought you wanted to learn, John."

The boy squirmed against the long arms. "All I've done is stare at tablets, Master! I'm bored."

"Patience is a virtue, little one. Especially when one is a Jedi."

"Then you must show me the trick for faking it when being tested, Master mine."

"Brat." Sherlock allowed his padawan a break from his humiliating defeat and rounded up the tablets strewn across the tables. John padded across the floor to his master's side after dusting himself off. The child fussed over his clothes as Sherlock drew him into his lap. John leaned backwards against the sturdy chest and yawned.

"Read." Sherlock jabbed his finger at the tablets which John grudgingly took. His fingers traced the scribbled texts until he found a familiar planet's name.

Korriban.

"Originally home to the Sith race," he read aloud. "Korriban housed the original Sith Lords, though they did not gain Force powers until much later. After the Hundred-Year Darkness, the remaining Dark Jedi interbred with the Sith species and ruled the Sith using their Force powers. It was the site of a Sith Academy, and became the headquarters of the One Sith. Using their training in the Force, the fallen Jedi amazed the Sith and elevated themselves to god-like status on Korriban, becoming the rulers of the Sith people. As years passed, and interbreeding occurred between the Fallen Jedi and the Sith, the term "Sith" came to mean not only the original inhabitants of Korriban, but also their fallen Jedi masters."

John, ever Sherlock's padawan blinked rapidly. "The Sith were originally just a race of people? Not Force sensitive?"

Sherlock nodded proudly and motioned for the boy to continue. "In the years after the Treaty of Coruscant, Korriban had become a major center of learning for the Sith Empire, the Sith Empire had seemingly built upon the tombs and the former Dreshdae, as well as uncovering many lost tombs and caverns.

At some point all Acolytes went through training here, seeking to become an apprentice to a Sith Lord or Darth, the typically brutal trials increased, often becoming trials where only one out of numerous Acolytes could possibly survive, the death count was astronomical.

The long practice of murder and betrayal among Sith had become illegal among Acolytes, even punishable by death, this did not mean such things did not take place though, as Acolytes would typically lay traps and ambushes in the tombs or caverns to remove challengers and potential threats, often placing blame on the beasts and crazed denizens of those same tombs."

Sherlock waited impatiently for John to read and reread the text. Slowly comprehension dawned in the boy's face. "They killed one another to gain more power," the child said slowly. "Because it fueled their hatred and ego?"

"Yes, little one."

"So Acolyte's of our time don't make Sith Lords…unless…unless one manages to kill one?"

"Correct. It came into being with Darth Bane, the creator of the rule of two."

John chewed at the bottom of his lip. "The Acolytes that took children are nearly Siths themselves?" John guessed unsurely. "They are specially trained and that's why you're scared."

"I am not scared, John," Sherlock scoffed indignantly. Insulted that the child would even think such things, Sherlock sulked above him.

"Good. Then I can stay here," the child smirked evilly. The knight paused for a moment and glanced down at the padawan who was proudly playing with his fingertips. The tiny heart raced in John's chest as he prayed his point had gone through.

Sherlock surprised himself by kissing the light head fondly. "That wasn't playing very fairly, padawan mine."

"One does not play fair when dealing with a clever fox, Master." John pressed his weight against Sherlock's torso and laid his head on the elder's shoulder. Sherlock rubbed the little one's back soothingly.

He really shouldn't allow John to stay. Ancient Korriban and padawan snatchers meant only one thing.

The Black Lotus was on this planet, the nightmare of his childhood.

It was the group of trained Acolytes that rounded up runaway slaves and potentially powerful children. But they had been retired after trying to end on Moriarty's rein.

Clearly they were back in the game.

Sherlock kissed John's temple again lightly. The boy was strong for an eight year old youngling, a prime mark. Too young to fight back, but still full of raw power that could one day be used for a greater cause on either side. John buried his nose in Sherlock's outer tunics, a soft sneeze erupted in the thick layers of fabric. Sherlock gave the boy a miffed head swat and was rewarded with a small giggle.

John should go home.

And be safe.

"If I allow you to stay you must do exactly as I say, John. Exactly, with no hesitation."

John fidgeted uncomfortably, his fingers tugged at the ends of his sleeves. Darting a quick glance upward he let out a soft sigh. "Tell me why you are afraid."

"I am not-"

"Why did you want me to leave?" John seemed to battling with inner conflict not to sound two years old and needy.

"There is a group of Acolytes," Sherlock murmured, "who specialize in taking children. They…"

Sherlock stared at the corner of the room, but his eyes were far away. He tried to imagine them putting John at the end of their discipline. The child would more than likely fight, sass, be John. They would do everything in their power to take that from the boy. Sherlock frowned furiously.

What was he doing?

John needed to go home.

He couldn't simply keep the boy because he desired him to stay.

"I swear by my padawan's oath to do what you say, Master," John said solemnly. "But you cannot tell me to abandon you."

"Little one, whatever I tell you will be obeyed. If that is an issue for you, I will call Qui Gon. I will not let Stewjon happen again."

That earned him a flinch.

_I should tell him. Explain to him if Moriarty gets a hold of him..._

"I swear," John spoke quietly.

They sat in uncomfortable silence. Sherlock found himself nudging the boy's head with his nose. A Gorian trait, an animal's trait, trying persuade John to be happy again. Sherlock snuffed insistently behind the boy's ear until John was giggling fiercely.

_Mine._

John turned his face under Sherlock's armpits and blew a raspberry. The elder huffed indignantly.

_My child._

He released the boy to the floor, claiming eight hours of study to be enough for one day. John hummed in agreement, but Sherlock noted the child pocketed the Sith texts.

_Curious little brat._

Sherlock smirked proudly.

John was the first out the door, hardly containing his joy of at last having supper.

Sherlock had once again forgotten children need food regularly.

Shrieking erupted from outside the archive's door, Sherlock ran from his position at the table. John rushed through the opening squealing in fear. He slammed into Sherlock's leg, burying his face in the knight's pants. Hot tears rolled frightfully down his face.

"From the sky! Master, the sky…" John looked absolutely panicked. He clawed his way into the strong arms, Sherlock clutched the boy to his shoulder in confusion.

"What? What, little one?" Sherlock rocked his padawan gently. An attack perhaps? A Sith ship? Whatever it was had the child in absolute terror, he was shivering severely.

"The sky is broken!" John brought his knees to both Jedi's chest, a sign that he needed to be closer to Sherlock. His very being trembled.

Sherlock was mystified at the stupidity from his padawan. Broken? Good gods the boy was dense.

Sherlock stepped towards the exit as John tried to hide himself in his master tunics. Slowly the knight held his hand out the door. Ice crystals fell into his hand, dissolving on his warm palm.

This wasn't his padawan.

"It's snow, John. This planet is experiencing its winter." Sherlock would have snickered if the boy hadn't seriously believed the sky to be broken. John shook his head, refusing to look anywhere but his master's chest. "Little one, it is frozen water."

John peeped from his master's chest shivering from cold and fear. "Winter?"

Of course.

John's home planet was tropical. He had been raised on a weather controlled Coruscant, and resided in Tatooine. He had never seen snow crystals.

Sherlock wrapped him in his robe, tightly shielding the boy from the cold. John whimpered into Sherlock's chest, obviously he did not enjoy the frost biting snow. Sherlock adjusted the child so he was still held, but was forced to watch the snow fall. John shuttered.

"It is only frozen rain, padawan."

"Yeah, okay. Home now?" John pleaded.

"Don't be dull, John." Sherlock held out hand and waited for ice crystals to accumulate. Delicately he pressed them into John's hand were they melted. The child giggled.

"Water."

At once he squirmed to be let down. Snow plastered the fair hair to John's forehead as he danced around on the ground. His previous fears washed away with joy in his new discovery. John's slight giggling turned into a true belly laugh.

It was all Sherlock could do to drag the boy home. John kept insisting he be allowed to stop and touch the forming layers of snow. The knight threw the child over his shoulder, John pounded on his back as he was carried away. The Force rippled with delight.

"Master!" John wiggled. "Master, let me go!"

"It is time for bed, little one," Sherlock said paternally.

"Noo!" John wailed. "Five more minutes! Chiszzk."

Sherlock hauled his padawan in doors. John heavily protested.

"John, your clothes are damp. You will become useless, more so than already," Sherlock scolded. John struggled as Sherlock stripped him down to his trousers. He wriggled as Sherlock dried him. His nose wrinkled as he was handed a fresh pair of pants. The only thing he seemed happy with was a supper of rice and beef gravy.

"But Master, I want to go outside! Please!"

"Padawan, you are a future knight of the Jedi academy. Stop acting like a little boy."

"I am a little boy!" John stamped his foot. Both Jedi shared a long glare before John ran towards the door squealing. Sherlock tackled him to the ground. They rolled together longer than necessary. John landed on Sherlock's legs with a small grunt.

Sherlock launched his padawan towards their shared bed, John laughed as he was propelled by the knight's long legs. He hit the bed with a loud squeak.

"Master!" John reached for him happily.

And Sherlock went to him immediately.

Reaching forward he covered the boy in their blankets and laid him on pillows. Sherlock flopped into the bed next to him, John bounced high into the air. He landed with a small thud on Sherlock's stomach.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John's head settled over his master's heart.

"Goodnight, my little one."

oOo

Sometimes he called for Lestrade.

Those were the times when he scared John the most, those were the times when Sherlock's composure completely vanished. His strong, brilliant master became a weepy padawan in his dreams.

"Master! Oh gods, oh Force. Please, please sit up. I'm sorry! I-Sith's spit," the older man groaned.

John trembled as Sherlock's face contorted in totally agony. Whatever he was seeing was distributing pain generously.

"I told you to kill me," Sherlock whispered painfully. "You should have killed me. Kriff, there so much blood. Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Sherlock." John could take no more. He began shaking his master's shoulder in attempts to wake him, Sherlock's face twisted in fear.

"Kill me!" he roared.

"Master!" his padawan cried.

Sherlock's eyes flew open, his long hand snatched the throat of the person trying to wake him. He pushed the small being on back on the bed, his fist drew back to attack. John's panicked face stopped him.

"Little one," Sherlock gasped out. Immediately he dropped his padawan's throat in alarm. "John I-"

Most people would have cowered from the man who had recently tried to rip their throat out, but John Watson wasn't most people. He pushed himself into Sherlock's arm and embraced his neck. John nipped his ear softly, soothingly. Sherlock sat back in surprise.

_Little one?_

John thought back to all the times Sherlock had soothed his nightmares. Embraced him, check. Next there was a cup of water to calm his dry throat. The boy jumped off the bed and ran to his bag. He delved through the contents to find his canteen and passed it back to his mentor.

Sherlock drank greedily.

Water, check.

John wasn't sure how to do the next part. Sherlock always pulled him onto his chest and let the small boy sleep there for the remainder of the night while he kept watch. John wiggled in behind his master's head and made the older man lay back. A dark head rested peacefully in the lap of an eight year old, who began silently stroking Sherlock's dark curls.

"Bet you're glad you kept me here now," John grinned down at his patient happily.

Sherlock reached upwards with a free hand slowly. His fingers twisted in the padawan's braid and tugged fondly.

John called his saber to him with the Force. It flew across the room and into his hand. He laid it by his knees, his small hands continued their soothing motions across Sherlock's head. The knight pushed himself up to eye level with his padawan.

"You should sleep," he said softly. Concern burned brightly in the boy's eyes, Sherlock reached towards him. Tucking a strand of hair out of the boy's eyes, he sniffed at the child's neck possessively. His scent mashed with John's, forming a mixture of the two them that settled over the elect being.

"I will when you are," the child promised. He wouldn't. He was going to stay up and keep watch as Sherlock would do for him.

"No," Sherlock drawled lowly, plucking the boy from his perch and setting him on his chest. John sat straight up, cross legged on the strong torso.

"I'm helping," the boy said crossly.

"I know." Sherlock pulled the boy to lay down. John obeyed grudgingly. "You are doing marvelously." He ran a gentle hand down the child's back and felt a small yawn against his neck.

"Truly?"

"Always."


	4. Chapter 4

"A temple to Korriban?"

"A temple to ancient artifacts. Most of them come from across the galaxy, however there is a section devoted to the Sith home world."

John sat astride his master's shoulders. The elder had been in a foul mood and had mercilessly teased him for his vertical…situation. Revenge tasted sweet as Sherlock ducked under a low doorway so John did not his head.

"Why would anyone want a section devoted to that?" The boy frowned as they entered a room filled with unusually high technology for Nivek. Clearly a nice benefactor had paid for that particular exhibit. John cringed at the sight of a Sith removing a Jedi's head in combat. The holoimages were graphic and disgusting, showing different depictions of Sith victories. John shrank against Sherlock's head. "This is disgusting."

"War history often is."

John squirmed viscously. His master squeezed his little feet until he stilled, the disadvantage to having bare feet was the exposure.

And John's feet were extremely ticklish.

Sherlock found an ancient skull set, he examined the decaying specimens gleefully. One of skulls were glinting brightly in the sun light. Sherlock nodded appreciatively at the care given to the ancient beings. John wrinkled his nose in disgust, he didn't understand who would polish a Sith's skull.

"Master, what are those?" John pointed to a wall of weapons, wanting to be away from the dead Sith Lords. Their dried eye sockets seemed to pierce through him, their frozen smiles seemed mocking.

"Ancient light sabers, little one. Powered by the Force itself and not power cells."

John breathed out excitedly. He leaned heavily backwards and hung onto his master's hair, the elder said nothing as the boy clung to him. "Wizard!"

Sherlock pulled John off his shoulder and let the boy run to the weapons.

Children and their weapons.

John looked carefully at the craftsmanship of blades, he examined the deep hand groves where the blades drank in the Force. Sherlock pulled the child close to his side with a proud smirk. "Red crystals are synthetic, Siths are not welcome on Ilium where we form our sabers. Some of them have even been known to shatter genuine light sabers."

John was nodding seriously, clearly coming up with his own back stories for the sabers. Sherlock lifted the boy onto his hip, needing closeness. John leaned near the glass. "Why did they change to power cells?"

"It drained their life force," Sherlock explained merrily. "They would die twenty years earlier than most."

"Fantastic!" John pushed forward excitedly.

"Yes," Sherlock kissed the boy's temple warmly. "The technology was later used to develop torture devices for the Sith."

"Can we see those next?" John begged eagerly.

"We are looking for data on the numbers, little one." Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's.

"Oh…"

Sherlock snorted at his dejected apprentice, the boy looked genuinely disappointed.

_Mine._

"Okay, Master…but maybe later?"

"Maybe later," Sherlock promised.

_My child._

John wiggled to be put down, Sherlock obliged him. The boy set off around the exhibit, no longer frightened by what they held. Sherlock watched him run joyfully.

"Excuse me. There is no running through the exhibits," A sharp voice snapped.

John froze at the enraged sound. His eyes shot to Sherlock who shrugged uninterestedly, just because other people's children ran around destroying things didn't mean his would. Sherlock motioned for John to come to him and was hurriedly obeyed. John hid shyly behind him as an official looking woman stalked through the door.

John muttered his apologies as the woman stared at him wrathful. Sherlock rolled his eyes, honestly the child had done nothing other than looked excitedly at exhibits.

Being punished for being interested, how dull.

Sherlock withdrew the piece of paper with numbers scrawled across it and pressed it into the she devil's hand. "I need to know what these are for," Sherlock said swiftly, his fingers dove into his pockets and produced his datapad. "Clearly they are numbers, but what are they used for?"

"Counting," the temple madam snorted.

John giggled involuntarily. Sherlock shot him a silencing glare, John blushed and bowed his head snickering.

"Little one."

"You're the one who says to laugh at yourself," John protested.

"Yourself. You, John. Not me." Sherlock's tone suggested that it was obvious what he meant the whole time. John merely leaned into his teacher with a shake of the head. The woman examined the numbers closely.

"This would be something for Soo Lin to decipher," the official said thoughtfully. "If this even is a code," she added stupidly.

"Where is she then?" Sherlock glanced down to find John gone from his side. The boy was peeking at his Sith tablets and back at the holoimage of Korriban. He sat cross legged on the floor and pulled out his studies.

Willingly.

Papers began to flutter to the ground as John compared notes to the small voice over the intercom telling him about its history. Pride burst in Sherlock's chest as his child took down every detail and cross examined data.

"Sir?"

Silence.

"Sir?"

Sherlock maintained his focus on John.

"Master!" John called. "Master! How was the temple destroyed? It isn't in the archives or the notes."

Sherlock opened his mouth to call back to the child, but was cut off by a low hissing noise.

"Master? The child is a slave?" The official sounded disgusted. Sherlock visibly bristled at the word "slave". Already her eyes were scanning the child for a brand.

No. No, John should never be mistaken as a slave. He was a perfectly healthy and happy boy, a free boy.

"He is my padawan," Sherlock said coldly. "My student."

She glared at him for a long time. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Obviously not," he snapped.

Startled by the anger that shown across their bond, John turned to his mentor fearfully. Anxiety shone brightly in his eyes. He poked the other half of their bond gently, Sherlock quieted him softly.

"I said she's gone, sir."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "How long? Where was she last seen? Were there any remains?"

She scowled at him angrily, before twisting angrily on her heel. She stalked away from him without a second glance. Sherlock watched her go.

Honestly sometimes he didn't understand people.

John hurried to him. "Master, did you find out about the numbers?"

"I found a name. Soo Lin."

John pulled on his mater's hand until Sherlock looked down at him, the sky blue eyes blinked rapidly. The boy put his small feet on his master's boots and found his balance. Affection danced across their bond, replacing the anger. Sherlock stepped out of his boots and placed John in them.

It was cold, the boy refused to wear his own.

John stomped around the exhibit jubilantly in his master's boots.

"Come on then, Master!"

oOo

They discovered Soo Lin's hut.

"But I can help!" the boy protested.

"Stay out here, little one," Sherlock commanded. The boy was trying desperately to dart pass the Jedi, but a long arm stopped him. Light sea green eyes glared down at him reproachfully. "You swore, youngling."

"But I wanna help! Please, Master!"

Sherlock knelt down in front of the boy and took his shoulders. "John, you will stay out here, or you will go home."

John stomped his foot down fiercely. Anger blossomed across the Force with a white flame, John did not understand why his master refused his help. Exasperated he threw his hands in the air. "That isn't fair to threaten!"

"One isn't fair when dealing with a clever fox, little one." Sherlock touched his cheek tenderly before twisting around to enter the hut. "Stay here, John. That is a direct order."

John sniffled loudly, but nodded his acceptance to a back. His master was entering the small hut without a backwards glance. John stared at the closing door hatefully.

"Kriff this. Kriff this if you think I'm not helping you, Master," he muttered angrily.

With that the padawan of Sherlock Holmes turned on his heel to search for clues of any kind.

oOo

The first thing the knight noticed was the snow built up around the doorway.

The second was the lack of foot prints underneath the snow.

No one had been home in a week.

Sherlock stepped into the dimly light hut, his eyes scanned over a bowl of rotten fruit, a pile of dirty clothes, and furniture with dust layered thickly over top. There was an adjourned bedroom that had its door half open. Sherlock made his way across the rooms sniffing the air aggressively.

Something reeked terribly.

Sherlock noted the stank primarily came from the bedroom, perhaps there had been a murder.

Delicious.

"John!"

The boy remained silent. Sherlock inched towards the bedroom eagerly. "Little one!"

Still silent.

"I know you are angry, young one, but you could respond."

He opened the door all the way slowly, emptiness greeted him.

But no dirt nor dust.

At least none on this floor. He moved steadily towards the closet in the corner of the room. Evidently the floor had been walked on, but only the bedroom floor.

The children had been stolen with their parents in the other room.

Oh that was clever.

Was it clever?

"John!"

Stillness.

How could the boy still be miffed at him? Did it usually take children this long to get over something? The boy was being unreasonable.

Wasn't he?

"Padawan!" Sherlock reached for the closet door. "Oh for Force sake, boy! I order you to answer me, how's that, little one?"

He turned away from the closet, no longer sensing John's Force signature. Steadying himself in the Force Sherlock reached for John's half of the bond, the child did not respond.

_John? Little one! Wher-_

A strong pressure enveloped tightly around the knight's throat, cutting off his breath. Panic would have rose in his throat if it hadn't been constricted. A sturdy power was pushing him to his knees. Lights danced in front of his eyes, he grasped at the rope that tightened around his neck.

Sherlock reached swiftly for his saber and slashed through the rope desperately. The shocked assailant stumbled back, hissing violently. Sherlock ripped the remaining rope from his throat and turned his saber towards his opponent. A man dressed completely in black fell backwards from the blade.

"Where is John?" Sherlock seethed hatefully.

The attacker drew his own red blade, a dark blood crystal hung from his neck.

"Do not think I shan't kill you. Where is the boy?"

The attacker merely flashed pointed teeth and pounced out a window, shattering it.

"Welcome back to the game, Padawan Holmes."

oOo

John nearly fell from his perch.

Sherlock was pressing on his mind shields so insistently that the boy nearly doubled over in pain. At once he dropped his shields and gave into his master's will. The knight pressed their minds together angrily. Pain ripped through his body as Sherlock's mind invade into John's space, pushing aside the child's own thought process.

_Ow! Ow, Master!_

Sherlock seemed relieved to hear John's voice, his mental push became less adamant. Still enough to hurt and make the boy stay completely immobile, but it no longer felt like someone was stabbing a saber in his brain.

Master was going to hate him, or at least brood for the rest of the day.

John's body refused to obey his commands to move, it waited for permission only from Sherlock. The knight was nowhere to be seen, and John did not sense him to be anywhere near.

_Master, I can't-_

_I know. I am keeping you in place, so you do not run away again._

_What? I was helping!_

There was no response as John fought against his teacher's mental restraints. Footsteps crunched close to the boy, John would have flinched if he had been allowed. Sherlock at last freed him.

"What was that for?" The boy cried, completely shaken. His master had never physically punished him before. Not that he would count that as physical punishment, no doubt Master could do far worse.

Sherlock took a step towards the padawan, John stumbled backwards.

"You didn't have to…I was trying to help, Master! I even found something." Tears soaked the frightened child cheeks. He didn't understand why Sherlock had invaded his mind so angrily.

"Stop it," Sherlock ordered. "It was a technic to keep you in place should anyone be trying to take you."

"You could have asked!" John trembled. "You could have asked instead of scaring me! I thought- I thought you…"

He didn't know what to think.

Sherlock stared at the boy for a long time.

He had an easy way of unnerving the child.

"There was a Lotus member in Soo Lin's hut. You weren't responding to our empathy link, I thought you had been taken."

"Master, I was…w-what happened to your neck?" John at once forgot he was afraid of Sherlock and rushed to him. When the knight refused to pick him up he climbed his way up a nearby tree. Gingerly he tilted Sherlock's head and examined the wound.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Sherlock demanded.

"Because…" John reached for his sack and pulled out medical supplies. He set to work applying bacta ointment.

"Yes?"

"Because technically I was still following orders, even though I had wandered off…if I had answered you, you may have ordered me back before I wrote all this down." John pulled a scrap of paper from his inner pockets. He handed to Sherlock as a peace offering.

Sherlock hissed in pain as John touched a precise sore spot. He glanced down at paper he had been handed.

"I found it in the forest, craved into a tree. I think it is more numbers." John finished applying medicine and slid from the tree. "Are you very angry, Master?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied stiffly. John's face fell. "Were you very frightened?"

"Yes." John still had fear in his eyes as picked at a small hole on his tunics. His bare toe prodded a snow filled bush. Sherlock leant towards his padawan slowly, gradually he clasped the boy to his shoulder.

John whimpered as he felt warmth spread through him.

Sherlock still cared.

Sherlock still loved him.

John wanted to nestle into him, but concerns for his master's neck injury stopped him. John rested his head against a strong shoulder and shut his eyes. Sherlock had frightened the poodoo out of him when he was immobilized. He knew Master was strong, but he didn't know that there was the possibility of overriding someone's mind. John turned his face into Sherlock's collar bone.

"You still haven't said you how you got this, Teacher."

"Soo Lin-"

"You got beat up by a girl!" John pulled away to stare into his master's grey eyes. His nose wrinkled as he snickered.

"Soo Lin's house was being guarded. They were waiting for her. I have told you this before," Sherlock swatted the blond head lightly.

Incredibly lightly.

John knew it was an apology for freezing his limbs. John held onto his teacher with acceptance in his heart. He hated being mad at Sherlock, there was no worse feeling than knowing the knight was upset.

"How are we going find Soo Lin now?" John muttered against the strong body. "What do the numbers mean?"

"Patience. Answers will present themselves to an open mind."

"Yes, Master."

"I need to see someone about a skull."


	5. Chapter 5

"If you squirm one more time, little one, I will cut your limbs off to accommodate room for both of us."

"Your compassion is illuminating even in the dark, Master. I hear and obey," John sassed heatedly. Neither one of them were comfortable, and it certainly hadn't been John's idea to hide in a small space beneath the Korriban planet projector. John aimed a particularly rude elbow towards his master's stomach. Sherlock grunted.

"Shut up."

"You shut up," John replied lamely. Truth was he was tired, cranky, and hungry. He hadn't thought to eat supper before there stake out, nor had he thought to nap. Sherlock snorted lowly.

"Still think you are old enough to come with me on every mission?"

John said nothing. He buried his face in what he hoped was Sherlock chest and closed his eyes. Sleep washed over him faster than he thought possible, only too late did he realize it was Sherlock's doing.

"'Aster…" the boy slurred.

"Hush, I will wake you when it is time to move."

John wasn't soothed by the promise, but his treacherous body sent him to sleep. He lay limp in his master's arms, the elder was pleased that the boy no longer wiggled about. Sherlock pressed his lips to the boy's temple carefully.

_Stop this! You are a Jedi. You cannot afford to be affectionate with a boy._

Sherlock cracked the sore muscles in his neck and drew John closer. They could be waiting for hours, there was no reason to keep the boy awake. Children required sleep, and John hadn't been getting nearly enough.

Hadn't been since Stewjon.

John thought him thick at times. At least thick enough not to notice the boy's constant nightmares. Sherlock knew all too well the child was still frightened of Moran, despite his passing.

Darkness was a terrifying thing.

He waited alone, in silence for four hours.

As he has expected upon arriving another skull had glistened brightly in the moonlight. Someone was taking very good care of the former Lords. John slept on, his breath came in short puffs. Sherlock smiled cautiously at the little boy. Lestrade had looked on him as a son in less than a month of their time together, it was only natural he saw John as such.

No.

No, he couldn't think like that. He would put it out of mind.

It was safer for John that way.

The sound of the door slamming alerted the knight to an approaching humanoid female, roughly five feet four inches. Probably slender, hardly any noise came from her footsteps. Sherlock roused John roughly. The boy came to spurting nonsense, sky blue eyes glanced up at him. Sherlock pressed a finger to his lips. The boy nodded obediently.

Sherlock slowly pushed open the compartment door and silently crept behind the small woman. She didn't notice him lingering behind her. Sherlock motioned for John. The boy tiptoed over to him, his hand on the hilt of his saber.

Sherlock shook his head.

He turned his attention back to the young woman, who was extracting a skull from the case. She took it with great care, before turning into Sherlock's chest.

"Careful-"

The frightened woman dropped the skull. John caught it in his bare hands, pulling a face as he realized he was carrying a dead Sith in his hands. The urge to smash it at his feet died when Sherlock placed a calming hand on his neck. John's palms tingled as he passed back up the skull, almost as if the dark side didn't want a Jedi dealing with one of its disciples.

The boy scowled at it.

"Shut up, sleemo," John hissed.

"Little one," Sherlock chided.

"It started it," the rebuked child huffed.

The woman shifted uncomfortably as the knight glanced over her swiftly. His eyes narrowed, the woman swallowed.

"You take very good care of Sith skulls for just an attendant at an archive base. An ex-attendant at that." Sherlock trapped her between the case and himself. John latched himself onto his master's hand, warning him to back off slightly. The knight shrugged him off.

"I-" the woman tried explaining herself.

"Several children go missing and the moment investigators come you quit your job? Why? Worried we'll find something?" Sherlock's hand went to his saber. He had absolutely no intention of using it, but it was a persuader to speak swiftly and without boring details.

"No, please! You misunderstand!" She backed away from him in fear. Sherlock didn't pursue. "Please, I didn't leave because of the investigation."

John peeked up at her from around Sherlock, his infectious smile plastered across his face. He was trying calm a woman at least twelve years his senior. He stepped out from behind Sherlock with a shy smile. "We believe you. Right, Master?" John prodded him in the side.

"Speak quickly," Sherlock folded his arms in his sleeves, John frowned and stepped closer to the woman.

Soo Lin gazed at John for a long time, the boy shifted under her scrutinizing stare. Sherlock jolted in front of him possessively.

"No," he snarled. His Gorian nature sending his deep voice into a further baritone note. John was his child, his. The way Soo Lin fixated her eyes on him was claiming, a way of sizing John up to see if he could be snatched. Sherlock had seen the gaze before.

Black Lotus.

"I did not want to snatch away children any longer," she whispered. "The way they…the hurt in their eyes, I couldn't bring myself to do it any longer. I am weak. So I hid here. For a long time." She gave a weak smile. "But the Black Lotus specializes in finding runaways. They will find me here, eventually."

John shook his head fiercely, he inched across the carpeted floor and slowly took her trembling hand. Soo Lin looked down at him with pity.

"You should hide your padawan better, Master Jedi. He is strong and young, they will take him." She patted the child's head softly.

"Like to see them try," John muttered darkly, looking at Sherlock. They shared a small nod, there was no way Sherlock would let anyone touch John. Not if they valued their life.

"You should not put so much faith into masters, young one. Once you have been taken from them they do not search for you. They are Jedi, and Jedi cannot love."

John ripped his hand away as though her touch burned him. Stumbling back into Sherlock, he caught the elders pant leg as if to check that he was still there. Sherlock held his shoulder gently, John gave an audible growl.

"Little one," his master warned softly.

John turned his face into Sherlock's side, ignoring the disapproving ripple in the Force. His master tugged on his hair lightly, but the boy refused to move. Sherlock sighed with annoyance. "You were a Jedi once then? Stolen from your master at a young age."

"I have grown up not to trust either side of the Force. Leave it there Jedi," she snapped.

"You are branded. Obviously you did not enter the clan willingly," Sherlock said rapidly.

"How could have possibly-"

Sherlock pointed to the shoe that lay under his large boot. He had managed to step on it before the woman had turned around, trapping it. John's eyes flickered downward and located the brand of a flower on her heel. Both Jedi cocked their heads.

Sensing Soo Lin's rage, Sherlock put his hands up in slow surrender. "If you are truly sorry for stealing children, perhaps you will help us get five back?" His left hand remained in the air whilst his right reached for the paper slip that John had scrawled. He passed it over gingerly and it was taken as such.

John tugged at his leg. "You'd come and get me? Right, Master?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, padawan. They belittle you." Sherlock ran a soft hand over the boy's ear while Soo Lin's gaze was diverted. Sky blue eyes shined brightly in response it his teacher's affection.

"Sorry, Master." But the boy sounded far too delighted to be apologetic. He pressed forehead into Sherlock's leg and took pride in his growth. Sherlock had threaten to put bricks on his head if he continued to grow at such a rate. The hand scratch lightly in John's favorite spot.

He cooed.

"It is a code. Every member knows it," Soo Lin was saying.

"Yes, I gathered that, but thank you for wasting more of my-"

"Master." It was the child's turn to warn. John held up two pinching fingers, a threat to match his warning tone. Sherlock glowered at the impudent boy at his side.

"Please, continue," Sherlock said with forced politeness.

"It is from a book that every foot solider would own. The numbers indicate page number and words, it is simply really…" Her voice trailed off as she led them into an adjacent work area. "You know who they are trying to contact?"

"Yes," Sherlock said with a small snort.

Of course he knew.

"Then you know you have no chance. No one has ever escaped James Moriarty."

John opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock shushed him. The boy wiggled uncomfortably as Soo Lin sat behind a small desk, paper still in hand.

"Master?" John tugged at Sherlock's hand softly. His teacher knelt in front of the boy so he could lean forward and whisper that he wanted to be picked up. The elder Jedi shook his head, earning a pout. "Tired." John rubbed his eyes to prove a point.

"I told you to stay in the hut, little one." Sherlock reached for an office chair and plopped his child down.

"Can't protect you in the hut, Sherlock." John's eyes were fluttering closed, Sherlock immediately caught the boy as nearly fell from the desk chair and brought him close to his chest. Angrily he whispered about how John had clearly done that on purpose. The child's response was to wrap his arms tightly around the knight's neck.

"He is young for a padawan," Soo Lin said lightly.

"So everyone keeps telling me," Sherlock snapped back heatedly. John cuddled him instinctually, quieting the rage in the knight's heart. Sherlock brought the boy's ear to his lips.

"You know I hate this," he muttered indignantly.

"Yeah, but you hate everything," John whispered back.

"Not you."

John giggled. "I'm not a thing, dummy."

Sherlock rocked him gently. "You are becoming very familiar with your master, brat."

oOo

Soo Lin watched both Jedi interestedly. Never before had she seen a Jedi cuddle a child. It was forbidden to love someone on both sides of the Force and yet the both Jedi were speaking as father and son. She shook her head to clear it.

There was a low whimper and the child was all but burying himself inside his master's tunic. The older Jedi snarled, his hand placed protectively over the blond head. He knelt on the floor, releasing the padawan.

They put their foreheads together.

At last her senses found her and she too felt the impending danger. The Force rippled in warning, a powerful enemy was within the temple's walls. Neither Jedi paid the frightened woman heed.

"Stay here, little one."

"But-"

"You need to protect Soo Lin." The master cupped the boy's cheek carefully. His odd colored eyes studied the boy rapidly, his thumb pressed deeper into his padawan's chin. "I need you to help me, yes?"

The bright blue eyes twinkled. "I can help?"

"Protect Soo Lin, do not leave this room, keep your mind open to me, John," Sherlock said hurriedly. He gave the cheek a light squeeze to annunciate his point. The boy caught his teacher's tunics in his hand and pulled himself closer.

"This isn't a trick, right? You really need me?"

"Be mindful, keep your senses alert. And you will call for me if you need me." The knight bit the child's ear.

Properly bit him!

But the child was nodding fiercely, excitement flushed his face red. With a longing gaze backwards the older Jedi stalked out the door saber drawn. Taking a yearning step after his teacher, the boy stilled himself.

"Be careful, Master," he called softly.

Soo Lin nearly smiled at the tenderness between Jedi.

But instead frowned at the weakness amongst them


	6. Chapter 6

He wanted his master immediately.

The sharp pang in his heart was so insanely childish it made him want to blush. Maybe he wasn't meant for missions on his own yet. He was only eight. Sherlock should have known better than to leave his young padawan on his own.

Soo Lin paced nervously in her office space. John's saber was drawn, but not active. He kept one eye on the door and one on Soo Line, there was no trust in his head for the former Lotus member. A leaded writing utensil turned soft as she chewed on the tip, the note of scribbles in her hand. John kept his senses open and alert, every now and then reaching through the Force for Sherlock.

His master always responded with a small caress of the mind.

"He cares for you," Soo Lin said without taking her eyes off the paper.

"He is obligated to," John smirked. "He has told me so himself."

Again his mind touched Sherlock's, the knight soothed him quietly. It hinted at slight annoyance at being called upon so often, but continued to embrace him until the child withdrew. John smiled at the calming hold over his psyche. It wasn't as if it were only him reaching towards the other side of the bond. Sherlock often reached for his padawan's half as well.

"I have never seen another Jedi so close to his padawan," Soo Lin accused swiftly.

"My friend is close to his master," John pouted. Both Jedi were often accused of being too close. Master Mycroft was often the worst complainant. John found himself looking on Mycroft as a favorite uncle, but he wished the elder would leave their bond alone. Benke was just as close to Qui Gon, yet no one questioned them. John swiftly choked down the jealous feeling in his chest.

Soo Lin frowned heavily. The scribbles were slammed down on the table with angry hiss, John jumped in shock. The woman glared at him with rage. "Masters are not to be trusted on either side. They are no more than slavers."

John merely looked at her sympathetically. "The Dark side may be, but my master is a good man."

Soo Lin moved towards the unflinching child. John squared his chin defiantly. "I will never be scared of my own master, ma'am. Do not try to lecture me differently."

"You have much to learn," she said tiredly.

Anger boiled in the young padawan's chest, the woman was insulting his master.

And not in the way that Sherlock usually deserved.

"Ma'am, please don't take me for disrespectful. I just hate it when people insult my master…I know you must have gone through much, but not all Jedi masters are bad." John fiddled with the hilt of his saber in a haze. Hesitantly he reached for his master's half of the bond once more.

There was no reply.

_Master?_

Not even a ginger nudge.

_Sherlock?_

"My brother and I were born on separate sides of the Force. He, the Dark. Me, the light. He was older and clung to my memory. When I was apprenticed at age twelve my master took me on my first mission. It was disastrous."

"Mine wasn't great either."

John pressed his mind deep into Sherlock's, his master's mind pressed back.

_Busy!_

John felt Sherlock's excitement and calmed. His master was not in danger, he was enjoying himself. John turned back to Soo Lin's tale.

"We were picked apart by the waiting Acolytes. My brother urged his leader to bring me to their cause, my master did not fight for me…"

John remembered his own master on their first mission. Without reluctance Sherlock had protected his new padawan fiercely, and he had still found to way to comfort John through it all. A slow, tender smile crept across John's face. Perhaps Sherlock did care for him without being obligated.

"I am sorry, ma'am," John said truthfully. "A master should always take care of their padawans." There was genuine sadness for the woman in his heart. If Sherlock had not cared for him, no doubt John's life would be worse than the nine hells.

Soo Lin retook the scribbles in her hand. Her brow scrunched in thought, she pondered silently for a moment. "This is your own, independent theory?"

The child shook his head. "My grandfather and master both have told me so."

Soo Lin nodded slowly. "You are bias, I suppose. You are blinded by your attachment to him."

"I am not," John said crossly. "I-"

The sound of blaster rifles cut the padawan's argument short. He shoved Soo Lin behind him protectively, but did not yet flick his saber on. Soo Lin trembled.

"My brother…"

"Do not worry, ma'am. I-"

"John! John, help me!" Sherlock's voice rang out loudly through the office door. Fear flowed through the Force with intense pressure. John's heart rose to his throat. Was his master in danger?

"Master?"

"John, please! Help!"

"Master! Master!" John screamed.

"No, young Jedi!" Soo Lin reached for the child's tunic collar, but John evaded the small hand. He dashed from the room with his saber activated and ready. His senses were thrown out wide, searching desperately for his mentor.

"Master! Sherlock!" He was running for the Sith exhibit.

From behind him a great strength pulled him down to the floor. He was caught against a firm chest and smelt the familiar scent of rain, books, and wild grass. Sherlock was nursing a burn wound on his left arm, and John noted the blaster marks that riddle the Korriban exhibit.

Despite the shootings Sherlock had hardly been hurt.

"Master," John sighed with relief.

"Little one, I told you to stay where it was safe," Sherlock chided. He dragged the child closer, keeping his head protectively near. John's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You called to me." John was examining the blaster wound on Sherlock's arm. The young knight took his apprentices shoulders firmly. With a stern glare he forced the child to remain still.

"Do not lie to me, youngling."

"B-but I heard you called for my help." John squirmed under his master's stern gaze. He nuzzled under the older Jedi's neck, hoping for sympathy and understanding. Sherlock scowled down at the young boy, John pulled away shyly. "You were calling for my help."

"Little one, how could you think I would call for an eight year olds' help? Honestly child, it isn't safe for you out here."

John's lower lip trembled. "But you did call for me."

"No. I have said that I did not."

"Then who-"

Somewhere in the distance the Force presences of a young woman flickered and died swiftly. John gaped backwards at the way he had come, he trembled with disbelief. Soo Lin's signature was gone. With no trace of an assassin. The Force remained still and calm, with only the absence of a life as proof that something had gone wrong. Sherlock leaned back into the case of skulls he had been hiding behind.

"They lured you out of the room." Sherlock slammed his head back into the case. "Damn it."

John pressed himself closer to Sherlock as the elder jogged to Soo Lin's office. He slammed his shoulder into the building while holding onto John defensively. A sharp splinter sound cracked through the air and both Jedi tumbled into the office. John immediately lay eyes on a woman slumped over the desk limply.

"Soo Lin?" he croaked.

"Why would they lure a child away? Did they think you were older? Why wouldn't they take the chance to seize you?" Sherlock's hand trailed through the soft blond hair, John was not soothed by the small gesture.

"Master…there was no one…I didn't sense anyone. You called me 'cause you needed my help." John sniffled.

"Youngling, be still," his teacher snapped. He snatched the papers from Soo Lin's unmoving hand.

"Someone just died, Master! And it was because I wasn't there!" John shrieked.

Sherlock blinked down at the boy. His nose wrinkled in confusion as the child withered in his arms. "Little one, do you truly think you could stop a trained Acolyte?"

John butted his head against his mentor's chest.

"Please, Master."

Sherlock nipped the ear gently. "John…why wouldn't they try to steal you?"

"Master! Someone had passed-"

"Yes, but why focus on the negative when there's finally something fun going on!"

Sherlock hurried excitedly from the room without noticing the slow tears that trailed down his padawan's cheeks.

oOo

He wasn't hiding.

Kind of.

His knees bumped into the hut's wall, his body was curled deep under the blankets. Mako was pressed tightly under his chin, the delicate fur tickled his nose and caused him to sneeze lightly.

Mentally, spiritually, physically, he hated himself.

A woman had died because of him.

Properly passed on.

Kriff. Kriff everything.

And they hadn't been able to translate the scribbles because of him. Now the other padawans and children would suffer.

Bile rose in the child's throat, but he swallowed painfully.

Someone was sitting him up and pulling him out of his sulk. Sherlock pressed a drink bowl to his lips, John refused.

"Little one, drink."

He clamped his jaw shut.

"Padawan Watson."

"Master Holmes."

Sherlock drew his stubborn protégé into his lap and sniffed his hair carefully. John must have smelt as poorly as he felt because Sherlock withdrew quickly. The drink bowl reappeared, more instantly this time.

Honey and milk.

He drank.

"You feel it was your fault for the incident in the temple?" Sherlock held the boy closely, John sought comfort under his master's chin.

"Obviously."

"Brat."

Sherlock ran a stubbled cheek over the young face, causing reluctant giggling. There was still a terrible ache deep within John's stomach, but after a long day of questioning villagers Sherlock had finally come back.

And noticed that John felt like complete poodoo.

"It was not your fault." Sherlock nipped the young ear gently. John twisted in his seat and bit his master's finger. A low growl escaped from Sherlock's lips, it was a small warning for the child not to challenge him again. John sniffed at Sherlock's neck until the growls turned into a near purring sound.

"I have a lesson for you, John. If you are willing to learn." Sherlock rolled so John was flattened beneath him. The padawan didn't perform his usual giggle and squirm, instead he laid completely still.

Distress danced over their shared bond. A low whimper filtered out from under Sherlock's body, the knight frowned.

"Come."

When the boy didn't move, his master lifted him into the air.

"Come, little one."

oOo

Sherlock sat across from his padawan.

John rubbed his eyes in clear pain. The boy had learned to control his tears, but his emotions were still wild and unmanaged.

It wasn't John's fault in the slightest. If anything it was his master's fault for not thinking clearly.

For not seeing the obvious.

John's mood was effecting him.

"Breath, padawan mine."

John shoved his hands deep within his sleeves, his small fingers threaded together to keep them still. Sherlock sighed at the nervous movements and laid a soft hand on the side of his padawan's face.

"I am afraid, Master," John confessed softly.

"There is nothing to fear, little one. This mediation is guided, I shall be with you at all times."

"It isn't that, sir." John touched Sherlock's knee gently, his sky blue eyes watered. "What if I cannot release my faults despite your presence?"

"Trust me to lead you, John. Hardly ever am I wrong." Sherlock cocked his head prompting the boy to smile. A slow nod was all he received.

Sherlock continued his soothing scratching of John's neck, the boy stretched out beneath the clever fingers gratefully. Feeling very sorry for himself, the boy crawled towards his mentor longingly. Sherlock stopped him with a firm push. Hurt shone brightly in the child's eyes.

"The lesson will comfort you, little one."

John bowed his head. "I want…"

The symbolism was not lost on Sherlock. John wanted the comfort of his mentor, wanted to feel strong arms holding him tightly, and wanted the soothing assurance that he was not at fault for the death of Soo Lin. The knight steeled himself. "I know."

Both Jedi took the mediation positions. John knelt at Sherlock's feet, and the knight crossed his long legs peacefully. With practiced hands Sherlock placed his fingers on John's psyche points.

Two fingers on the temples, pinkies under the jaw, ring and middle behind the ears, and his thumbs with no contact on the boy. The knight leaned forward and tenderly placed his forehead against the crown of John's head.

_I am here, little one. You are safe._

_I trust you, Master._

Sherlock guided their minds deep into their shared awareness. The boy's frightened being clung desperately to Sherlock's as they flew into the inner lays of their mind.

John had often heard his master refer to his consciousness as his "mind palace", but they were focused on John's half.

And John had a mind ocean.

The two beings settled together, forming solid entities in a world built only with thought. Sherlock's being kept his padawan's small body pressed closely to his own. John brought his knees to both Jedi's chest and sniffled.

"I've changed my mind, Master. Please, please, let's go back to the hut."

"Little one, you must forgive yourself of all offences you have committed. Whether they are truly your fault or no." Sherlock's paternal instinct to calm his child roared within him, but the Jedi in him pushed forward. The boy had to learn or risk harboring his low self-esteem for life.

"Must I do it alone?"

"Why would I be present if you were to do it alone, dull child?"

John wiggled to be released, but Sherlock held on to the small body tightly. Sharp teeth ran over the child's ear lobe. Gradually the little boy relaxed.

"I will put you down, my young padawan, and the exercise shall begin. We will be separated by the flowing Force…John be still." Sherlock pacified the trembling boy. "Both of us will release our ragged past into the Force to be smoothed and calmed."

"Yes, Master," the padawan whispered.

"Together, child. We will release our past together."

"I understand, Master."

Sherlock smoothed the blond hair tenderly. John was still shivering with fear and distress. It physically hurt the young knight to release his padawan to the ground and be pushed back by the Force. It crashed between the two Jedi in the form of a river, and John immediately cried for him.

"Master! Master!"

"John!"

The Force threw the knight backwards as he momentarily forget himself and lunged for his padawan. He had always gone to his child when called.

"Little one be calm! You are upsetting the Force."

"Master! Please, I-"

"John! It is alright, I am here." Sherlock spread his hands, showing the boy he was indeed solid and still there. John had tears visibly coursing down his cheeks, his distress threw the river into a chaotic rage. "Little one," he said softly. "I am here, I hear you. But you must calm yourself. I cannot do this for you, my little one." If anyone else had cried before him they would have been mercilessly mocked. Taunted to the brink of even more sobbing, but John was different.

Because John was his.

"John," Sherlock shouted above the roaring water. His hand found his smallest rock, rough and sharp and took it in his hand. "Little one, I was a slave to a man I hated." He knelt before the stream and rested the rock in the freezing water. His icy eyes never left John's.

John blinked at him slowly.

And then his clever padawan found his own small rock.

"I-I hate Moran for what he did to you." John knelt across from his master and dunked his rock deep into the calming water. His master's hands brushed his.

Together they withdrew their smoothed pebbles and went back to each of their own banks. John found his second rock.

"I miss my mother," he confessed to Sherlock and to the Force.

"I wish for my master's return," Sherlock said aloud.

He couldn't make himself say miss.

Sherlock Holmes did not miss anyone.

Their hands touched, the boy took his comfort gratefully. Sherlock eased his index finger over John's small hand, his child pressed his forehead into the knight's arm. They pulled back.

And it went on.

Each Jedi confessed something new to their counterpart and the Force. Every time they leant over the river the brushed against the other. Assuring them that they were still there.

One time Sherlock even kissed his padawan's temple.

John found himself staring at his last fault. A great boulder at least twice the size of his head and sharp enough to cut diamond.

Soo Lin's death.

He didn't wish to touch it.

"Master," the boy whimpered.

Strong hands took his shoulders firmly, John peeped up at him in surprise. "I am here, John." Sherlock had been permitted to cross the chaos to assist his padawan. He guided his apprentice's small hands to the final challenge, together they lifted the heavy boulder into the air. John leaned his back into his master's legs.

"It is my fault. My fault…" Both Jedi's palms bled under the sharp rock.

"No, little one. It was never your fault, your presences couldn't have stopped them anyway."

John shrank as the boulder grew heavier in his hands.

"Don't be senseless…John, you are too young. It is not because you won't go grow to be strong one day. But you are only eight. Only a little boy."

"I am a Jedi padawan. I should have been more alert. I shouldn't have left the person I was protecting." The boulder sank to the ground despite both Jedi's efforts to keep it up. It was too heavy, far too heavy.

Sherlock lay his chin on the side of the boy's cheek, the knight twisted his face so John could hide against his neck. Tears and snot dribbled down the boy's face, leaving a sticky trail down Sherlock's front.

"Carry this boulder with me," Sherlock ordered lightly.

"Why?" John whispered. "Aren't I supposed to carry my own faults?"

Sherlock surprised himself with tenderness and sniffed the child's neck. "This fault is both of ours, we carry it together."

John felt the burden once again being lifted. The Force called them back to the river banks, they plunged the rock deep into the water. Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around the child's tiny waist. The small body relaxed as the water dulled the sharp earth in his hands.

"I am here, little one."

"I know, Master."

John began pulling out the now small, shiny pebble. He pressed it into Sherlock's hand. "One day, one day I will be strong enough. But right now…I am still learning. And I will take this lesson and grow with it."

Sherlock reward the boy with a firm kiss to his forehead.

"You are mine."

John grinned proudly at his master, pressing himself closer to the knight. It was the greatest, the closest thing to "I am proud of you" Sherlock would say.

"You're mine too," John mumbled sleepily as Sherlock scooped him close. He felt his master's limbs freeze.

"Am I now?" Sherlock sounded stunned.

"Yeah."

Sherlock nipped his ear twice.

Through his sleepy eyes John saw two large boulders sitting on Sherlock's bank. Two lurking shadows that covered the side in unyielding darkness. John swallowed.

What could cause that?


	7. Chapter 7

"Young Jedi?"

John looked up from the puzzle his master had laid out for him. Components were strewn over the ground, the object was to fit them all together into an antigravity ball. It was an advanced task, designed to entertain older padawans. Certainly not an eight year old.

A villager knelt by his side, John glanced back down to his pieces.

"My master is speaking to the elder Sebastian," John brushed the dark haired woman away.

"I have come to speak to you, my young friend."

John felt shyness overcome him, his head dipped downwards. "Master says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers without him."

"Well I can imagine he worries about you and the possibility of someone taking you," she said sweetly. "Especially with the children snatcher around."

"He knows I can handle myself," John said stoutly. Something was off with the woman's aura, it was twisted…and she smelt awful. "He just doesn't want me to…"

"Your father worries about you, it is only natural for him to give you such instruction," the woman tried pacifically.

"He's not my dad," John grumbled. He didn't want anyone comparing his cold and viscous father to his master. Sherlock could be cold as liquid ice, but he was always caring towards John.

The woman frowned. "You do not consider him your father?"

"No," John said stoutly. He fit the core of the antigrav ball together with a sheepish grin. The hardest part was through, now he could finish the shell. "Forgive me, ma'am, but my master has given me a task, and I wish to complete it."

Pieces whizzed through the air as the outer shell formed itself. The child positively beamed at his accomplishment, he picked the ball up in eager hands and turned to his visitor. She had an impressed eyebrow raised. "What did you need from me, ma'am?" John asked politely.

She reached out slowly for John's finished project, the boy flinched away with his possession held close. The woman smiled slightly. "Not very Jedi like."

"Forgive me," the boy sounded shaken. He didn't want her to mess it up, the project was sacred. It would surely earn him rare praise from Sherlock.

"I came here with an invitation, young one. We are perform a very old magic ceremony and would be delighted if a Jedi were to observe." The woman was holding out a crimson red envelop. Taking it carefully between thumb and forefinger, John felt a small frown creep over his face.

"I will be sure to ask my master if I might attend," John assured politely.

She chuckled lightly. "I am quite sure your master will decline my offer."

"If my master declines, then I must decline as well, ma'am." John willed his master to return from debriefing Sebastian. "Master will probably be back soon, if you'd like to speak to him."

As he spoke the sound of heavy boot steps echoed down the way. John's face immediately light up at his master's familiar tread, the woman smirked. "Do not forget my invitation, youngling."

John held out his hand, hoping to stall the woman for his master. "My name is John."

She smiled wider as she took the small hand in hers. "Mine is Shen."

She departed out the back.

His master entered shortly after.

"Master!" John presented the antigravity ball proudly. Sherlock's eyes were tired, but his face remained impassive. He scooped John up with one arm, bending the boy's knees in the so he sat on his master's elbow. "You look tired, Sherlock."

"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock sniffed the air as his padawan leaned heavily against him. "Someone was here."

John looked down at his forgotten project with a disappointed frown. "Yes, Master."

"A female."

John gave his master an excited glance as the deductions started.

"Short, small, black hair." He rattled off.

John took an enthusiastic breath in. "Now tell me how," he demanded with a sharp tug on Sherlock's ear.

"Footprints and…" He pulled a long black hair off John's tunics. The child beamed.

"Amazing." His padawan laid his head on the strong shoulder. The antigravity ball fell, forgotten at his side. His master took it from his hands with an impressed look well hidden under an emotionless mask. It had taken the boy five hours to complete a task that would take eighteen year olds day.

Pride grew in his chest.

"One more deduction," Sherlock said softly.

John looked at him expectantly.

"You are feeling better?" It sounded hopefully.

John nodded peacefully. Prompted by instinct, Sherlock swung the child into the air and threw him. The small boy landed on the mattress with a giggling shriek and a squeak of the springs.

"Master!" John reached for him.

And Sherlock went with the antigravity ball held proudly before him.

oOo

She fitted herself with Force inhibitor.

She had found an easy hiding spot to observe her former pet and his new padawan. Logically the child hadn't wanted to speak to her, the Force had been abnormally strong with the eight year old. He had fixed the antigravity ball at an alarming rate after all, it was natural the Force warned him to the danger she presented. The boy, no doubt, would have run from her if it had been polite.

At first it had been unclear if the boy cared for his teacher.

Reasonably the child should have hated his master. Darth Ravenous had not been brought up to love anything, let alone a little boy who required constant attention. The padawan had been too shy to entertain a brain such as Ravenous's, far too quiet. Weakness was evident in the boy's discreet nature, he barely seemed worthy of Ravenous.

He certainly wasn't worthy of a Sith lord.

Perhaps they could turn him into a Lotus Acolyte, but Moriarty would never allow his prized apprentice to raise such a dull child.

There was no doubt the child was obedient to the Sith, denying the invitation if his master declined it. Several children had agreed to the ceremony of magic with the promise not to tell their parents.

The fools.

Moriarty's instructions had been to see how close the child was to his master before taking him. They were to assess the bond between both males' and at first it had seemed uneasy. The child did not consider Darth Ravenous his father. A wrench thrown in their plan.

But then Ravenous had appeared down the road.

How the child's face had lit up.

At once he clutched the project Ravenous had assigned and waited eagerly for the Sith to enter with his approval. She did not want the young man to sense her presences and had departed.

His name was John.

He even had a dull name.

At the same second his master had entered the door the boy, John, had run to him. He was at once scooped up and tightly embraced, leaving the Lotus general stunned into silence. They talked in low voices, the boy looked down dejectedly only once at his project, which Ravenous picked up after a moment. The boy would never notice the pride that shone in those oddly colored eyes.

But Shen did.

Because it should not have been there.

True the child had completed the task in record time, but he was too dim for Ravenous.

"You look tired, Sherlock," the boy accused.

Yes. Yes, Ravenous looked exhausted. But to the child he denied his fatigue.

"Oh my little Raven, have you found someone to love you?"

The child was thrown across the room and onto a large cot. His small body bounced into the air, before falling back to the creaking bed. At once he reached for Ravenous and cried "Master".

Naturally she expected Ravenous to shove the boy off, to discipline him for trying to give orders. She did not expect the Sith Lord to run to the child like a whipped akk pup. He crawled into the bed next to the boy and wrapped tiredly around his small form. Raven released a held in breath, his long fingers scratched the child's ears affectionately. She wanted to laugh at their weakness.

Raven hovered the ball high over their heads with a flick of the hand. The boy leapt towards the elevating ball and flipped a small switch. It hovered high above them without any assistance from the Force. The boy knelt on Ravenous's chest, beaming down at the resting man. Her former pet stroked the child's hair softly, his eyes smiled without his face following.

He was well practiced in showing no emotion.

"Master, are you okay?" The boy dipped his head under the calming hand. Raven's frown deepened.

"What did the female villager want?"

Subject change.

"Nothing of significance to your wellbeing, my master."

She smirked.

The boy would not tell of the invitation then.

"Little one, be still," Ravenous snapped, "I am perfectly well. You needn't worry about my welfare. Especially when we have just finished worrying about you."

Little one?

_Little one?_

Did Raven actually give his padawan a pet name?

"You should sleep, Master. Please," the child lay on the Sith's chest.

"You must eat and bathe first, John." Ravenous leaned back against his pillows tiredly.

"What did the elder say?"

"Nothing intelligent, therefore nothing."

"Master," the child giggled.

Ravenous pulled the boy closer with a small smile. "Padawan."

"I can make supper. If you wanna rest," the boy insisted.

It was all she needed.

Raven clearly adored the boy and vice versa. The Sith had shackled himself unknowingly to the child he held dear. A slave to his feelings for the dull blond boy. Moriarty would want the child delivered soon.

Very soon.


	8. Chapter 8

"Master?"

Sherlock looked down as the young voice called him, John was tugging insistently at his sleeve. The knight silenced Lukas's father with a small hand gesture and turned his ear to his padawan. Pink was flushed along the boy's ears and neck, he was embarrassed by something.

"Little one?"

"You-you told me to tell you when I was hungry…." John's became very interested in his boots, shifting on easily from one to the other.

They had been searching through different texts of each missing child's collection since dawn. The sun was falling over the horizon, the ache in the young knight's back told him he had been slouched for far too long. All day he had tuned out his padawan to search through the texts.

Was John just calling for him now?

Or had he been trying for longer?

With a barely noticeable gesture he call John's pack to him. Upon riffling through it he found all the boy's snacks had been devoured hungrily, and the wrappers had been licked clean. As the pang of guilt stabbed at his heart he once again cursed his sentiment with the boy. John shifted uncomfortably.

"So I did." Sherlock rose elegantly, placing the texts back down on the tables. He curbed the instinct to draw John close as an apology and turned slightly towards Lukas's father. "My padawan hungers. It is time we retired tonight."

"But you found nothing!" the father protested.

"On the contrary. I have found one hundred and forty-two texts that were not the code. Good evening." He gave a stiff bow.

Swiftly he repositioned John's pack on the small boy's shoulders, relief filtered in the sky blues as Sherlock led him to the door. The knight ran an apologetic hand through the soft blond hair and gently tugged on the padawan braid. The poor boy looked exhausted.

"'m okay," he was assured as his padawan felt pity from his master's half of the bond.

"Master Jedi, I want my son home safely," the old man's voice trembled with emotion.

Sherlock rounded on him, eyes boring into the Nivekian's coldly. "You wish him safely to embrace him or imprison him?" The words were cruel and thrown viscously into the elder's face. John snatched the young knight's hand, pinching the fatty part between the thumb and index finger. Sherlock snarled down at the impudent boy.

John stepped lightly on his master's boot.

_You are tired, Master, and I do not think Elder Lukas is the same as Elder Sebastian. I think he really misses his kid._

_Little-_

_Please, be nice._

Sherlock swore aloud and hoisted John into the air with one arm. His padawan had the ability to make him feel like a twat when anyone else's attempts would have been futile. Turning to the village elder, he muttered a soft apology. John reward him by leaning heavily into his shoulder.

"I am doing what I can," Sherlock directed towards the elder.

"My son is not much older than yours. Must you let him sit in a terrible environment for weeks when you would not let your child do it for a day?"

John clutched the fabric of Sherlock's tunics tightly, silently pleading with his teacher to just go home.

_Like the rocks and the river, Master. Please, please let it go._

_You wound me, John. I am not foolish enough to rise to his bait. I would thank you to start trusting me with my emotions._

John's expression was that of horror as he realized the great insult paid to his master's control. The tiny head bowed, bumping into Sherlock's collar bone miserably. Once again the master bowed low to the village elder with the promise to continue the search despite his insulting lack of faith. He departed with John held closely.

"Sorry," his brat muttered softly against the warm skin of his neck.

"You tired and hungry, John. It was forgiven the moment the deed was over." Sherlock nipped the boy's ear affectionately. "Moron," he directed towards his padawan as an afterthought.

John cuddled his master warmly.

"As you say, my master. I simply ask that you remember who has raised said moron."

Sherlock relished the easy conversation between himself and the boy in his arms. John was falling asleep on him halfway to the hut, Sherlock fought down the urge to wake the boy and continue talking.

Besides, the child looked peaceful when he slept.

As if on cue the boy yawned.

Sherlock lay a small kiss on the boy's brow, unable to stop himself. John let out a small mew, nestling closer to the warm being holding him. Sherlock's face softened.

_Must you let him sit in a terrible environment for weeks when you would not let your child do it for a day?_

No. No, he would never let John sit in such a place for a day. The boy would not be there for more than an hour.

oOo

"Youngling?"

John peeped up from his texts with tired eyes, the elder Lukas sat next to him slowly. Not wishing to be rude, John made room for the missing child's father. The elder settled close to the young Jedi, who eyed his master carefully. The last time he had talked to an elder on his own the woman had smelt of rotten mountain rat and invited him to away from his master. Sherlock gave no sign of recognizing his padawan's discomfort.

"Yes, sir?" John said quietly.

Why did everyone want to talk to him?

"Tell me, child, and tell me true. Is your master looking for my child?"

John nodded wearily, of course Sherlock was looking. His teacher hadn't slept, only meditated on the possibilities of where the Lotus could have taken children to be silently sold. It had to be somewhere invisible to everyone else. John rubbed his eyes.

"You could save them," Lukas said pleadingly.

"Me, sir?" John threw another failed text to the floor and reached for the next. The elder caught his arm.

"If you were taken he would work harder, you wouldn't be imprisoned for more than a day. You could protect the other children, you could help them, young Jedi."

John shrank away from the raving elder. "I don't know how-"

"You share a bond, do you not? Go to the other children and tell your master where you are! Save them, enough stalling," the elder snarled.

"Master," John called with great unease.

Sherlock was at his side in a moment. He raked his hands through the soft blond hair, pulling the boy protectively close. It didn't take Sherlock's powers of observations to see the elder was crowding the child.

"I believe it is time for us to depart, John."

"Yes, Master," John said relieved.

The elder reached forward to stop both Jedi, but Sherlock pushed him aside with as much dignity as he could muster. John padded out ahead of his master eagerly. Snow was beginning to fall once more, and John was sick of being coped up indoors. Childish pleasure filled him as he darted in and out of snow banks, his master walking swiftly behind him.

"Little one."

John stopped obediently.

"What did he want?"

John trumped through the growing snow mounds and leaned into his master's leg. John rested a barefoot on Sherlock's boot, the knight frowned sternly.

"Young one, I told you to wear shoes."

"They are too pinchy," the boy whined, no longer sounding like a bright young Jedi. He looked at Sherlock through the eyes of a little boy, not a padawan. Sherlock scowled.

"You will get frostbite."

"Is that what you got on Hoth?" John asked curiously. He had never been outside on that planet, but even inside with heaters blaring it had still been unbearably cold. Sherlock nodded.

"Must you evade my question?" Sherlock reached forward slowly with the intent to cup his padawan's chin. His fingers curled under the round face and guided it upward. John gripped his master's pant legs lightly in his hand.

"I'm not evading it, my master," John said humbly.

"Then answer me, my little one."

John peeled his chin away from the hand and willing went to his master's side. "He just wanted me to help. He said I could be bait and contact you when I had gotten…"

"Absolutely not," Sherlock seethed with outraged. "How could he even suggest…you are just a cub."

"It's not a bad plan, though," the boy said quietly. "It would shorten our search by-"

"John," Sherlock said shortly. "These are trained kidnappers, do you truly think they would put you with the rest of the children. You are a young Jedi, they suspect us to have a bond."

"Maybe not, Master. I am really young, maybe they'd think…"

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock threw his hands up in annoyance, "the answer is no. We shan't discuss this farther."

John sank his teeth into his lower lip to silence his forming complaint. It wasn't a bad plan, in fact it seemed fairly thought out. His master may have ended the conversation, but the boy felt curiosity override his common sense. "But it could work."

Sherlock cast him a dark look. "I believe I had closed this conversation."

"You deny a good plan, Master!" the boy objected.

"For your safety, youngling."

It was a ludicrous fight, John had never planned on following through with the angry elder's suggestion. He didn't even know where to find the Lotus clan to get kidnapped. Still unexplainable anger boiled in the small chest. "I could help! My safety should not hinder the safety of five others."

"Stop it," his master hissed. "You are speaking like a spoiled child."

"I am mirroring my master," John stomped his foot heatedly.

Tension slammed between both Jedi, forcing them to physically part. John had tears flowing down his cheeks, leaving harsh trails over flushed skin. Sherlock's blue-green eyes turned a vile gray.

"Back to the hut. Now," his teacher fumed.

John gave him a defiant glare. "I-"

"I have no more time to waste with you, John. Back to the hut, I will be back after I speak with the elder Sebastian."

John brought his lower lip forward and stamped both his feet. Master never let him help. He was no child, he was a Jedi. Yet his master insisted he need constant coddling. John twisted on his heel in a dramatic fashion worthy of his master. Without looking back, he trudged down the road to his temporary home.

Sherlock ran a tired hand over his face before returning to his errands.

He would address John later.

oOo

John's temper tantrum was completely justified.

He flung himself into the bed and beat his head against the marshy wall. He slammed his fists repeatedly into the pillows of the bed. He threw his bear across the room in a fit of rage, the plush toy hit the wall with a loud thud. John froze.

Heart hammering in his chest, he crawled quickly over to his fallen friend and picked him up carefully.

Aside from dusty, Mako seemed okay.

John kissed the soft head in apology repeatedly, sobbing quietly into the furry head. He hugged the bear to him, remembering an old lesson Sherlock had taught him. Anger lead to nothing but pain for the one's held closest to hearts. Mako no doubt would be crying himself if he had nerves.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I love you."

To the bear or Sherlock, he didn't know who he was speaking to.

A blood red envelop fell from Mako's grip, knocking lightly against knee. John peered at it curiously, he had forgotten it in his temporary angst. He pulled open the unbroken seal and read the slanted scrawls aloud. "You are invited to engage in the magic of the Lotus beauty on the evening of…Mako!" The boy pressed his bear's nose to the invitation.

It was scheduled for that evening, in a mere two hours.

John could make it if he ran.

But Master would be so miffed.

Disobedience to such a degree was punishable by expulsion. Master had warned him more than once to at least appear obedient before the council. It wasn't like he was always causing trouble, but this was as far as his disobedience had ever gone.

Blatantly putting himself in danger against his master's wishes and without warning would definitely be cause for punishment,

But he had to do something to help.

_It will cost you his trust._

The Force argued against his psyche.

Master will understand once everyone is safe. The boy was confident his master would see reason.

_It will cost you his love._

John frowned at that. _I cannot spend what I do not have._

He left Mako and his saber sitting in the corner and bolted out the door.

oOo

"I am sick of your lies, Master Jedi."

Sherlock glanced up from his discarded texts, the elder was leaning far too close for the knight's liking. Reflexively the Gorian snarled, flashing sharp teeth in a warning to back off. Sebastian stumbled backwards.

"My what?"

"Your lies!" The elder threw John's scribbles on the table. Sherlock reluctantly made himself stare at his padawan's childish hand writing. His over exaggerated, circular scrawling made Sherlock ache to find John immediately. He never should have let the boy leave him angry.

Slowly he touched John's mind.

_Little one?_

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock said halfheartedly.

 _Sorry._ His padawan brushed back.

"You have been searching for texts when you already have translated the first scribbles. Look: ten mil credits for…for what master Jedi?"

Sherlock shoved the elder out of the way as he reached for the boy's scribbles. Softer hand writing was just above his padawan's, the exact words Sebastian had read were above each number. Sherlock slammed his hand against the rough surfaced table.

Of course.

He had been so stupid.

He left Sebastian gaping for him and bolted out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

He pit pocketed a fellow invited child for his invitation.

John wasn't stupid, he had been raised by Sherlock for Force sake. His invitation was marked differently than normal children of village elders, his was marked to alert the Lotus the Jedi had arrived. Not wishing to endanger the other boy with the marked invite, he simply stole the normal red envelop. Without his invitation the boy was forcibly shoved away from the erect tent that rose in the midst of the woods.

John passed his new invitation to the guards shyly.

They let him pass.

Master would have been proud of his façade.

After he was through being completely and utterly miffed.

John bowed his head in slight shame, already preparing for his master's shouting. Or worse quiet rage.

 _Master?_ John reached out gently to his teacher, praying Sherlock had not yet discover his treachery. The boy needed to feel familiar comfort, a soft caress to calm his slightly frightened mind. Sherlock had already reached for him once, a forgiving touch had followed.

_John._

The response was still gentle and kind.

He wanted his master terribly. He wanted a hug, a Sherlockian hug. Not too tight, always warm, always under his arms in case he wanted his master to hoist him in the air, and not letting go before John did. Sherlock always waited for John to pull from the embrace first

Unconsciously making his way John continued to pondering the repercussions of his actions. The council could easily take him away from Sherlock, and worse it wouldn't be unreasonable. They could expel both Jedi, not just John, and accuse Sherlock of poor teaching skills.

If both Jedi were expelled what would happen then?

Going home was far from out of the question for both males.

Would Sherlock take him back to Tatooine?

John could stay with Sherlock and be raised by him.

That wasn't a horrible thought.

If his master even wanted anything to do with him.

 _Master._ John's mind whimpered involuntarily. _I'm sorry._

 _It is alright, little one._ Sherlock's presences assured gently, thinking the apology was only for their early argument. _I will be home shortly, and we shall talk._

John would have turned around then. He would have run home, thrown himself into Sherlock's arms, and confessed every sin he had every committed, if he hadn't found himself staring dead center in a preforming ring. Three acrobats dressed completely in black knelt before a woman holding a vile of water high above her head. The children around him began nudging each other excitedly for the "magic" about to ensue.

John braced himself for his kidnapping. His comm link and pocket-saber sat where Obi Wan had showed him. Adults would search everywhere, except for….well Obi had assured him they wouldn't find them.

The four adults began chanting loudly. Puffs of color erupted from the vile of clear liquid, it danced around each child slowly at first and then picking up speed. Under normal circumstances John would have never been stupid enough to breathe the bright colors in.

But it was time to help the other children.

As the swirling vapors filled his nose, exhaustion filled his chest.

Slowly he sank to his knees. He didn't know when his face had gotten pressed deep in the ground, drool dribbled down the eight years old chin as the color green engulfed him.

He always liked the color green.

oOo

The text was right on Soo Lin's desk.

He was such an idiot. An absolute idiot.

Ten mil credits for elder's children, underground tunnels near forest center.

He had to report to John and inform him of the new finding. No doubt the boy would argue to come with him, but perhaps this once, he could use his curse to prevent the boy from following him. He could beg John's pardon after.

_Little one?_

A sleepy nudge against his mind was the only response he received. John must have fallen asleep. Sherlock decided he would run to his child, apologize for their fight, and run out. He needed to see forgiveness in those blue eyes before he could continue forward with their mission.

He flicked his comm on, hailing his brother.

"I've found them," he said swiftly, "send a carrier ten minutes ago."

"I shall be there shortly. Will you require a medic, brother mine?" Mycroft's response was instant.

"Bring one," Sherlock confirmed. He switched off the link without a good bye.

It was time for rest and apologies.

Tomorrow he would retrieve the missing children.

oOo

His hands were tied behind his back.

"Ow…" he groaned. The Force told him the smokes had kept him under for only half an hour. Someone was dabbing at his forehead with a cold flannel, he shifted away from the strange pressure. "Master?"

"Hold still, friend. You hit your head as the vapors effected you," an older voice said. John cracked the stiff muscles in his neck and opened his eyes. A fifteen year old boy leaned forward, the soft hand pushed the sweaty bangs from his forehead.

"I'm…uh…here to help," the boy muttered. He tried to sitting up, but the older boy held him down. John shifted away from the hands angrily. His senses told him he was the youngest one in the cage. Three other, non-sensitive, children were peering down at him. "I'm a Jedi."

The fifteen year old stiffened.

"You are not a child of an elder?"

"No, my master, I need to know where we are so I can tell him. He'll come here."

"Young Jedi, they will not keep us here for more than an hour. We will switch to another planet soon," a girl said softly. She was trembling fiercely. "They have collected every elder's child."

"Then we have to leave now!" John broke free of the soft hands and held out his bound wrists. "Untie me. We can make a break for it, I have a comm link and a small saber. My master will protect us."

John balled his bound hands into fists as the girl untied him. Reaching into his hiding spot, he pulled out his comm link and saber. The girl clutched at his arms, John allowed her to cling to him as he hailed Obi Wan.

"Benke, I need you trace the signal from this link and tell me where I am."

John glanced around at the fearful faces of his comrades, none of them had been trained to steady themselves. Sherlock had spent many times teaching John how to find comfort in the Force. Truthfully it was Sherlock he took comfort in, not the Force.

Obi Wan's response was swift. "Where is Sherlock?"

"There is no time, Benke, please. I need my location so I can tell my master," John said pleadingly. He rose on wobbly legs and went to the cage's lock. Tremors in his hand made it difficult to cut the lock, but at last he sank the saber deep into the lock's core. Sparks flew from the broken control panel, the cage door sprang open.

The fifteen year old sprang out first, hustling the younger children out ahead of him. John followed them all from a distance. Obi Wan still hadn't hailed him back yet. "Which way, young Master?" The fifteen year old called, pulling the younger girl into his arms. It was very probable that she was only slightly older than John. The young padawan threw his senses out wide finding the proper escape path.

"This way," John said taking the lead swiftly. He yearned for his formal saber instead of his pocket one, but pushed the useless feeling a way. His mind fluttered to Sherlock.

Should he attempt contact before he knew his own location?

John stopped abruptly, pointing the children from the show towards the exit. A vibration in the Force sent him warning, Brian Lukas and Eddie Van Con were still in reach. The fifteen year old clasped his arm in respect.

"Thank you, young friend."

"Be safe," the boy replied before darting down a different hallway. The other children would be safe, they knew the woods, they could hide. John's senses were thrown out desperately, the other children's Force signature was so small it was hard to detect. He turned a corner sharply.

And felt a cold hand close over his tunic collars. Instinctively he reached out for Sherlock, his mind crying for help. His master gave no response.

The boy's psyche wailed.

_No! Master, please! I'm so scared. Master! Master!_

Silence followed.

Sherlock had found out about his padawan's betrayal and had abandoned him.

John gave into the strong tugs forcing him to his knees and sobbed.

He was only eight.

oOo

Qui Gon's padawan had alerted the knight to his child's exact location the moment the boy's absences was discovered.

_Master! Master!_

John, oh John.

Someone else had been present in John's mind. A dark presence warned the knight not respond or risk a Lotus member seeking him out. The knight forced himself to remain silent as his padawan screamed for him, he tried desperately to shield himself from the pleas that followed.

But as the feeling of abandonment and betrayal filtered through their bond, the young Jedi's resolve crumbled.

_Little one, I am here. I am coming, Little one._

_Master!_ John's wail was full of misery. Sherlock's psyche curled protectively around John's trying to soothe him.

_I am coming. Be strong for me. Tell me all that you see, what deductions can you make?_

_Master, I am too scared._

_Help me, John. Help me by telling me all you see._

His padawan slowly began rattling of facts about the room he was being held in. The frightened child told about the people who had grabbed him, how there had only been four total. When he came to the cold woman, who had terrifying red eyes Sherlock openly flinched.

_I'm almost there, little one._

There was no reply.

It took only a moment for Sherlock to sense the approaching Lotus member. He ripped both his and John's saber from his belt, bracing for the impending attacker. The blue and green blades sprang to life in his hand.

_John? John?_

His padawan scream would haunted him for the rest of his life.

oOo

They dragged him into a dark, damp room.

He was tied to a chair that sat in the center of the room. Luckily his wrists sat in his lap sat in his lap instead of behind his back this time, his pocket saber shifted uncomfortably against his leg.

Frightened was an understatement.

_Please, Master. I'm so sorry._

Sherlock at last respond, sending warmth coursing through the boy's mind. He drank in his master's signature hungrily.

Sherlock soothed him by making him play deductions. John was horrendous at the game, but at his master's gentle urging the boy began telling him everything he had seen. He finished with telling his master about Shen and sniffled lightly.

_I'm almost there, little one._

John said nothing as his captors reappeared. Despite his best efforts, he still shook like a scolded youngling. The woman, Shen, sat in a chair in front of him. A man in black took position directly behind him, a long whip held in right hand. The boy swallowed.

"I was beginning to think you were not coming, young Jedi."

Sherlock's padawan choked down his fear and looked the woman directly in her red eyes. "There's really no need to strap me to a chair, you know. I haven't fallen out of a chair since I was a babe."

The woman smirked. "I find myself still looking into the eyes of a babe."

John snorted. "I find myself looking into the eyes of Sith lackey."

The boy would never forget the sting of the electric whip that crashed down over his left shoulder. At once a cry for his master burst from his lips and from his mind's eye.

"Insolence is always punished, young one. Though I doubt your master forgot to teach such."

Kriff.

He was crying.

"Oh come now. Your master never started crying until at least ten lashes when he was your age," Shen smirked. "You may apologize to me or take another lash. Your choice."

The so called choice was no more than an illusion, he could hurt his pride or his body. The young boy's lip trembled.

Master could take ten of those?

"Sorry," he muttered. Not to the hateful woman before him, but to his master, who had to endure too much as a child. Shen's face broke into a grin as she heard the whimpered apology. She assumed John was breaking on the inside

"Very good, young one. Now we shall play a game, would you like that? You master always liked my games."

John very much doubted that.

"We are going to play questions. I shall ask you a question, and you shall answer. Answering incorrectly or not at all results in…" she made a small gesture and the whip once again cracked mercilessly upon on his left shoulder. Leaving another cut directly parallel to the first. The boy cried out again, balling his hands into fists.

"What is your master's name?"

"S-Sherlock Holmes," he sniffed. The hand gesture that followed told him he was incorrect. Again unbelievable pain burst adjacent to his second gash.

_MASTER!_

"Master!"

Shen regarded the dull boy almost with sympathy. He was trying to curl into a ball, sniffling fiercely for his master. She sighed heavily.

"His name is Darth Ravenous," she explained coldly.

"Bloody stupid name-" He screamed as the next lash relined his first. A white light erupted over his eyes, his teeth sank into his lip. "Kriff you, kriff you."

Shen pulled the child closer to her. John struggled violently in her grip, not daring to meet her eyes. "Have you come to love your own slaver?" she spat.

"He's not a slaver, he's my teacher! My master is a good man! " The boy raved like a mad bantha, pulling against his bonds and his captor. The woman shook him as another lash ripped open the already bleeding shoulder. The boy at last stilled himself.

"You Jedi think you are free. You have shackled yourself to him as much as he has you. You serve the light side willingly, a willing slave. The Dark side knows better. We serve no one. We understand that through our anger comes power, and with power our chains of slavery are broken. The strong shall survive, the weak serve."

John snarled as her fist clenched in soiled tunic. "You say you serve no one, yet you hunt children under another's orders."

She threw him back into the chair, the wood splintered as the boy's back cracked into it. John moaned softly. He very much wanted his master to hold him. Droplets from the dank roof dipped on his head softly.

Water.

Water was good.

"I had spent your master's childhood molding him into the perfect Sith. When his master was away on business I was tasked disciplining the boy, making him less weak. By the time he was a Jedi electric whips hardly phased him. He could with stand anything, do anything." She stared into John's blue eyes. "Except obey. Other than that he was brilliant. My brilliant little Raven."

John bit back several retorts. Earning another lash could very easily put the child unconscious. Blood was already soaking his tunics, and the boy felt woozy. The words were free from his lips before he could stop them, "h-his name is S-Sherlock."

It was the ninth time the whip crashed over his shoulder. Three deep gashes formed in the layers of broken flesh, John didn't even try wasting energy to call for Sherlock.

"Ravenous is still brilliant to this day. Let me ask you, Padawan Watson, what have you done to deserve him? What makes you think you are worth such a unique mind?"

John cried harder because, in truth, he did not know.

"And now, my dear child, you have run away from him. You think Ravenous would even think twice about you? You have given him everything he needs to abandon you. He shan't come for you, child. You make him weak, you make him suffer. You a very bad little boy. I suggest you learn to like the color red."

John called upon the last ounces of rebellion and courage, he spat in the woman's face without regret. "I like the color green."

The boy could hear the raising of a whip. No longer able to brace himself, he sat perfectly still praying for mercy.

Instead of a whip crack, he the sound of two igniting light sabers.

He turned in time to see a blue saber separate the man's arm from his body and the green removed his head. The Force swelled with silent rage.

Master was so, so miffed.

John bowed his head, tears leaking out of his eyes in a free fall.

He just wanted a hug.

oOo

They had whipped his padawan.

They had whipped him nine times at least. Rage boiled inside him as decapitated the torturer's head from his putrid body. It wasn't the Jedi way, seeking revenge. But Sherlock assured himself if let free, the man would go after John.

And that would not be tolerated.

Sherlock deactivated the blades in his hand, moving swiftly and gracefully to where his padawan sat. The boy was crying and bleeding so profusely it broke his teacher's heart in two.

John was never supposed to go through that.

Never was supposed to know what the end of the whip felt like.

Calling upon his curse, he forced the Lotus leader to her knees. Forbidding movement until she was giving his say so. She grinned up at him.

"Your master watches," she taunted. "Cameras are all around the room. Do you choose to show weakness in front of him by going to your padawan?"

His choice visibly shocked her.

Sherlock knelt before his trembling padawan and took each tiny hand in his own.

What had he wanted at the end of each punishment?

Soft touches. He had wanted someone to show him that not all touches hurt.

Warmth. He wanted someone to show him kindness, as Lestrade later would.

He touched the boy's cheek tenderly, softly running his thumb over the tear trails. John only sniffled harder.

"No," he repeated the saying he first used to stop the boy crying. "No, John." He smoothed the blond hair down tenderly. "We shan't cry. It is over now."

His padawan drew a shaky breath in as his hands were freed. "Yeah, but now you hate me cause I ran away. A-and I c-could have gotten you h-hurt, and I s-should have waited for you, but I-I wanted to help. And I'm not worthy of b-being your l-little one. A-and your too smart for me. And I w-wanna go home. And my shoulder hurts." His padawan sobbed into his hands. "And I'm a bad little boy."

Ah, yes.

Yes, Sherlock remembered Shen's games. He was told repeatedly he wasn't worth Moriarty, and that he was in fact a bad, bad boy. Sherlock cupped the boy's cheek gently, sending soothing waves across their bond.

"Little one, John, look at me please."

His padawan shook his stubborn head.

"John Hamish Watson, you will do as your master tells you," Sherlock commanded forcefully. At last the sky blue eye peeped at him, misery and anguish swirled in their depths. Sherlock pulled the boy into his arms, whilst being mindful of the child's injury, and nipped his ear lightly.

"Running away from me was wrong, John," Sherlock said softly. "But I believe the crime has been more than paid for. When we return home we shall have lengthy discussion about your actions that will end with forgiveness and compassion. And do you want to know why it shall end like that, Padawan Watson?"

John hid himself against Sherlock's shoulder, sobbing turning into soft hiccupping as Sherlock's hand cupped the base of his neck. The child shook his head miserably.

"It shall end like that because you will always be my little one. And no matter what this wretched being has told you," Sherlock gently stroked hair from his padawan's eyes, "it is I who am not worthy of you."

Sherlock knew by that time all the pain had been transferred from John's body to the knight's. Sherlock kissed his padawan's brow softly, John melted against him.

"I am so sorry, Master," he whispered.

"I know, little one." Sherlock brought his nose low to the nape of the boy's neck and sniffed. "I sent the elder's children to Mycroft, including the Lukas and Van Coon boy. I apologize for the wait you had to endure."

"They're safe?"

"Yes."

John relaxed farther into Sherlock's arms, burying his face deep in the side of his master's neck. "I want to go home…"

"Do you wish to sleep?"

"No," John whispered against his master's neck. "Not 'til we're on the ship, okay Master? I just want to know we're safe first."

Sherlock cradled his child more closely to him. "Alright, padawan."

Turning his attention to his captive on the floor, Sherlock gave the woman permission to speak. She grimaced up at him. "My little Raven."

"Stop it," he hissed. John pressed his forehead harder against his master's skin. "I am being generous and letting you live."

She tutted nosily and shook her head. "Your master would have you whipped for such weakness."

"My master would have me whipped for breathing air," Sherlock snarled.

John tugged at his ear softly, the flush tear stained face turned upward. John dipped his head under Sherlock's chin and lightly bumped him.

_Grandpa would sooner face a thousand Siths, than let you get whipped._

_John._

"You cuddle a weak boy, you put yourself in danger for a padawan who ran from you. I thought you had been raised better," the woman seethed. "No matter. Your master shall punish you when he sees fit. Especially now that you cling to such weakness."

Sherlock shielded the boy from her hurtfully words by stroking the healthy side of his back. Assuring the boy that he was cared for and in no way a weakness. John clutched at him painfully.

"We are going now," the knight said coldly. "You may stand in an hour, not before."

"Ravenous, you will face me," the woman ordered as she had years ago. Back when Sherlock used to tremble at her feet and pray for swift punishment.

The Jedi's head shook. "No. You are not worth the small burst of energy it would take to slay you. And it is not worth killing an unarmed opponent and facing the council. The only reason I could ever think to kill you is for revenge, and that is not my way."

John nodded proudly, laying a small kiss on Sherlock's neck. A moment of affection burst in the knight's chest as he held the boy closer. His opal eyes flickered to a camera hidden in the corner of the room.

"John," he said softly, "I need to make you sleep, just for a second."

"No," the boy whimpered, "Please, Sherlock."

"Only for a moment, little one," the knight said gently.

"No!" The boy turned his face against his master's neck, crying profoundly.

"Difficult, child," Sherlock muttered. He strode to the camera, pressing John's head against his chest. He glared into the device hatefully. "Not him. If you want me, you come for me. Going for the boy is a cowardly move, it only proves me stronger. Not the boy," Sherlock's voice was deadly.

"Master?" John's eyes were still wet, though his pain had been transferred into Sherlock's body. "I'd like to go home now, please."

Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear gently.

A soft click sound alerted the Jedi to an open comm, a cold voice filtered through.

"But I am just dying to meet your young cub. What do you say, Johnny boy?"

Sherlock broke his fist punching through the concrete to hit the comm.

oOo

Mycroft fetched his brother medical supplies.

"I told you to bring a healer!" the younger man began closing John's wound swiftly. The boy grimaced and clutched at his master's tunics, his shoulder didn't pain him.

The shoulder should have pained him.

Sherlock.

If he were stronger, the child would have protested adamantly. His interfering master had taken away all his pain, no doubt at the cost of his own wellbeing.

Two pairs of strong hands were applying bacta ointment and stitching his wound. Sherlock debriefed Mycroft rapidly, then gave a mighty tug, pulling John into his lap. The boy curled into a ball as Sherlock gently assured him they were safe.

John sniffled nosily, his master spoke to him softly. John couldn't comprehend everything the knight said, but his voice was just as soothing. The child blinked out frightened tears, Sherlock tugged his ear softly.

"Master," John whispered. "Master, I wanna go home. I wanna be at home."

Sherlock caught his brother's eye with a deep frown. "Padawan, we are going home. We are going home."

Mycroft passed the younger Holmes more bandages, John held perfectly still under his master's quick fingers. The bleeding was stopped and the wound cleaned, but it was only a temporary fix. Sherlock soothed the still trembling child as his brother passed him a sedation jab.

"No!" His padawan squirmed away from his master aggressively. "No! I want to stay awake! Please, Sherlock!"

"John, you must rest. You're body needs to rest, you no longer have your healing."

"But I don't hurt!" John protested loudly.

Mycroft recovered his composure enough to glare at his younger brother. The knight did not raise his eyes to meet Mycroft's, John was still trying to push away the jab. Sherlock threatened the boy with harsh punishment should he continue to struggle. John thrashed violently against his master's hold.

"I'm scared! I'm scared!" The boy's protests worked against Sherlock's heart successfully, as the knight slowly began to lower the jab. John took the opportunity to throw himself back into his master's arms. "I'm so scared, Master."

It was the first time Mycroft had ever seen a look of helplessness pass over his brother's face. The knight let the jab clatter to the floor, then proceeded to pull the boy close. "You are safe," he assured. "You are safe."

"Are you mad, Master?" John whimpered.

"Not at you, little one." The knight ignored his brother's reproachful glances. John was burying his face under Sherlock's arm when Mycroft picked the jab up and very carefully injected the child with the sedative. Sherlock recoiled. "Mycroft!"

"The boy is going into shock, Sherlock. He needs to rest."

"He didn't want to sleep!"

"You are his master! It is your task to do what he needs, not what he wants!"

"He needed to feel kindness, Mycroft! You have no idea what it's like to be at the end of that whip. He needs to know that someone still cares for him!"

Mycroft's expression was bitter. "Sherlock?"

"What?" the younger demanded.

"I am sorry."

Sherlock felt himself sliding backwards, his nerves refused to respond.

A needle stuck out of his arm.

Kriffing Mycroft.


	10. Chapter 10

A groggy mew escaped the boy's lips.

The dull ache in his head was pressing the boy's awareness forward. He reached out his senses, finding only a nauseating feeling to greet him. The Force rebounded in his head, alerting him to a singular person in the room. John's eyelids flickered.

"Master?"

"No, sweetheart," a soft voice whispered close to his ear. Warm breath flickered over his neck gently, fear swept through him.

Was he still with Shen?

Where was Sherlock?

How much poodoo was he in?

Had Sherlock indeed left him?

Rica was looming over him, dabbing at his forehead with a cold flannel. John slowly reached for the burned wrist with a small sob. The woman stopped to look down at the crying boy. At once she touched his cheek tenderly.

"He was heavily sedated, John. Mycroft didn't want a repeat of last time," Rica explained carefully. "They will let him in when he wakes."

"I want my master," John begged. "Please. Is he mad? Does he hate me? Does he still want me?"

"John. John, you must calm yourself. He had to be sedated to be kept away from you, honestly child," Rica was running the flannel delicately over his neck and forehead. John began squirming beneath her.

"Master's gonna be mad as poodoo," the boy whimpered.

Rica reached near the bed side table, producing to two pills and a glass of water. They were insistently pressed into the young boy's hand. John eyed them wearily, knowing they would bring him no closer to Sherlock. The light pink pills lay in his tiny palm dauntingly.

Slowly the boy raised them to his lips, and swallowed them as well as the glass of water.

The drug's effects were instantaneous, dragging him backwards into sleep once more.

"He's going to be so mad…"

oOo

"Sherlock has enough sedatives in him to subdue a small army."

Mycroft stroked his chin thoughtfully. Surely his brother would understand they could not have a repeat of the last mission. Neither Sherlock nor John could be allowed to show their obvious attachment again.

Or else the council would have to take action.

His little brother's sedation had been the only way to part the bonded pair. The knight had put up a valiant fight, but had lost to Rica's medical expertise. The woman was assuring him Sherlock would not wake for at least another few days. During which his padawan would be cared for until he was cleared back into Sherlock's custody.

The wound would take weeks to heal.

The psychological injury would take months.

Poor boy.

Rica led the master towards his brother's room. He was eager to have the pair sorted and on their way, it seemed Sherlock would follow Lestrade's tradition and end in the healer's bay after each missions. No doubt the old master would have found that amusing.

Rica waved her hand over the control panel, springing the door open wide. Mycroft strode in, fully expecting to see a sleeping Sherlock.

But what lay before him was empty bed sheets.

Still warm.

He turned to the female healer slowly. "I think we should move along to the boy's room. Don't you agree?"

His outer composure was undisturbed, but inside the master seethed.

Not again.

oOo

John looked so small against his pillows.

Though they had long since fallen, but tear trails still adorned the boy's flushed cheeks. His small mouth was pressed into a thin line, indicating nightmares. The blankets were balled up under his chin in a lumpy fashion, the boy was trying to make up for the lost weight of his bear.

Sherlock reached out slowly to touch his child's cheek.

How had it come to that?

John should have been the one waiting for his master to get well. Never once should the child have been placed in a healer's care. Sherlock should have known better, should have seen what others couldn't have seen.

John was paying for his master's blindness.

Scrunching his eyes together at the disturbance to his sleep, the boy squirmed uncomfortable under Sherlock soft hand. The light blue eyes fluttered open, peering up into Sherlock's grey. Once he comprehended his teacher's presences, he launched himself into the strong arms.

Sherlock held him closely.

Neither Jedi spoke, John gave the occasional sniffle and hiccup, but was otherwise silent. His face was pressed deep into his teacher's shoulder, his chest shuddered against Sherlock's muscular one. Nimble fingers were rubbing the boy's sides, assuring him of safety.

John at last spoke.

"Don't give me away."

Sherlock pressed a small kiss to the boy's temple. "Why do you assume because a mission went poorly I will give you away?"

John's sniffles turned into harsh sobs. "Because I was bad, Master. So bad."

Sherlock softly smoothed John's hair down, playing with the ends gingerly. The drugs in the knight's system caused him to be nearly immobile.

But it was not something his padawan needed to know.

"And now you must hate me. I-I showed Moriarty that you were attached, a-and I made you hurt 'cause you took my pain. I-"

Sherlock shushed him earnestly. "I do not hate you, padawan."

"But you should…" the small whimper.

Sherlock gave up trying to center himself and the boy in the Force. Instead he allowed the boy to steady himself against his master's body. Sherlock held the quivering child for an age, searching his mind palace for anything useful.

An old saying from Lestrade entered his mind.

"A child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him," Sherlock muttered softly against John's cheek. "The Force gave you to me, John. I will not toss you away."

"But I ran away! The Force didn't give me to you, Master. It was all luck"

Sherlock pulled away slowly so the boy could look deep into his eyes. "There is no such thing as luck. The universe is rarely so lazy."

John blinked out tears. "I want my bear," he whispered. "But I left him in the hut."

Sherlock pulled Mako from his belt and laid the toy in John's lap. John collected it closely to him, hiding his face in the soft fur.

"Anything else?" his master asked softly.

"I wanna go home," the boy sobbed, his body was filled with pain and exhaustion. And though he loved Rica very much, the healer's bay was cold and unwelcoming. He wanted to go back to their quarters and lay in Sherlock's bed.

As if hearing every one of his thoughts, Sherlock scooped the boy off the bed and headed for the exit. John was cradled neatly in the crook of his master's arm, his bear sat on his small chest. Sherlock was still carding his hand softly through the boy's hair.

"Can I have a blanket, Master?" John trembled as he spoke. The cold irritated his bare skin, his request was at once obliged, and Sherlock wrapped him in a soft blanket. John thanked him.

"He called me Johnny…" the hurt whisper came from the bundle.

John fell back asleep within seconds.

"Oh, little one," Sherlock murmured, firmly kissing the boy's brow.

Sherlock made his way to the door, his padawan held close.

"No."

Mycroft's voice was like steel.

"Mycroft…"

"Sherlock, this is inexcusable. It is madness the attachment between you two. I must put my foot down," the master already was shoving his brother back into the room.

"Mycroft, please."

The voice was so quiet, it was nearly missed.

"He needs me to take him home right now. I cannot explain to you in a way you would understand, but he needs someone who is attached to him. He needs to know that he is not worthless of me, or….or he will become me."

Mycroft gaped as his brother pulled his bundle closer. With a small swallow, he shook his head. "I cannot allow-"

"Then let me take him now, and if he is not where the healer's predicted he'd be in a week take him from me!" Sherlock snapped. "He needs to be home."

Mycroft counted in his head, steadied himself, and briefly nodded his consent.

"A week."

His brother nodded curtly and stalked out of the room.

Force have mercy on them both.

oOo

"Visitors may do him more harm than good."

The warning fell hard on Obi Wan's ears, causing him to regard his master nervously. His elder laid a gentle hand on his student's shoulder.

"We don't know that for sure. There is only concern because the boy hasn't been properly monitored for the last week," he explained easily. Beside him Rica shook her head.

"I warned him, I warned Sherlock to keep John in the healer's bay. The boy needed to be tracked mentally. This could set our progress with him back an age."

Obi Wan bowed his head. "Sherlock is a capable master. I trust him to know what is best for his own padawan."

Qui Gon gave a nod of approval and patted his apprentices back lightly.

With a small wave of a hand the three Jedi entered Sherlock's quarters. Qui Gon felt a small tear at his heart as the thought of who once owned the house flashed through his mind. At once he blocked out the feelings.

The young knight was laying sprawled out on the sofa, tunics removed, arms outstretched, his appearance was highly uncommon for a man who had slept enough hours. Obi Wan flinched at the sight of jagged scars that ran up and down the man's stomach and chest, but said nothing. The knight opened his left eye with a small groan.

"What in blazes-?"

How the boy sounded like Greg.

Qui Gon's musings were cut short by Rica hustling forward, eyes scanning for John.

Sherlock held up an exhausted hand. "Bathing. Finally."

The knight looked like a man who had battled with a child for hours about bathing.

"You let him bathe alone? Sherlock, his wound-"

"He's fine," Sherlock growled angrily. He shifted his back to the trio, grasping for lost sleep.

Obi Wan gasped.

"Master!" A young voice called from the bathroom. Sherlock grimaced. "You're not sleeping. You promised to sleep if I bathed!"

"We have company, ignorant brat!"

A rag, heavy with moisture flew from the bathroom door and smacked Sherlock in the face. An impressive display of the Force, but also an instigation for battle. Sherlock charged the bathroom.

A delighted squeal erupted from the closing door, along with sound of splashing. John's laugh was that of a happy, healthy, normal child. Definitely not one that had experienced torture only a week ago.

Both Jedi emerged dripping wet, John was wrapped in a towel and held in his master's arms. Sherlock gave him a small toss in the air and caught the giggling child under his arm pits. Reluctantly the boy was set down and shoved towards Rica.

"Show her your progress, little one."

John adjusted the towel around his waist and proudly stood before the doctor. She examined the three deep gashes swiftly, taking in every detail. It was clean, but would no doubt scar.

"I'm okay," he promised his friends gently. "Really, properly, okay."

"John," his master called him back to his side. The boy at once trotted over to his teacher, lifting his arms above his head demandingly. Sherlock scooped him up with one arm and threw him over his shoulder. "It is time for him to sleep. With your leave, of course, my lady."

Rica gaped at him for a moment.

The boy was the picture of happiness.

"Put me down!" the boy whined mockingly. "Master! Master! I wanna say goodnight to Benke."

"I am not hindering your vocals, young one. Say goodnight if you wish."

John administered sharp tugs to his master's ear until he was jostled roughly. The boy giggled and swatted Sherlock's head light heartedly.

"Little one."

"G'night, Benke! Master Qui Gon! Master Rica!" The child waved happily with each name. He was put to bed in Sherlock's room, tucked under several blankets, and given a small glass of water as well as his medicine. His face fell momentarily when Sherlock exited the room.

"I'll be right in," the knight said with an eye roll. John stuck out his tongue and snuggled deeper in the blankets.

Sherlock slid the door shut silently.

"Satisfied," he said darkly.

"I never said you were incapable of taking him early," Rica snapped.

"No. But you did advise my brother against it."

"Yes, I did. For John's healthy-"

"For the health of his body, not his sanity," Sherlock scowled. "You of all people should understand why he had to go with me."

"No. I don't. We didn't all get masters like Lestrade, Sherlock!"

"That wasn't what I meant, don't be rash," the knight's face was tired, exhausted. Qui Gon stepped in to stop the fighting pair when Sherlock shook his head. "What did you want most of all at the end of those whippings? Because it wasn't to be stuffed in a hospital bed and forcibly separated from the people you cared for. John need to be here to heal. He had to know that no one was angry at him, that no one hated him, or was going to punish him again. He had to know that he was a good boy, Rica."

Qui Gon took Rica's shoulder gently. "It no longer matters what occurred in the past, young one. The most important in thing is that John is healing at a quickened rate."

The two scolded knights nodded slowly.

Obi Wan glanced at his master in awe, but remained silent.

Sherlock sighed heavily. "I am cutting this meeting short. My padawan needs to sleep, so do I." A tired hand was waved in dismissal, and the knight made his way to his room. Throwing himself on the bed, he trusted the other's to show themselves out.

John was under his arm in a second.

"I do feel better, Master," his child assured.

Qui Gon smiled affectionately at the pair as he shepherded the others out.

_Greggy._

_I see them._


	11. Chapter 11

"I would very much like to know how you healed John's psyche, young one."

Sherlock glanced from his resting place on the sofa and directed his full attention the elder. John lay contently in his favorite chair, curled into a tight ball. Soft puffs of breathe came from the tiny being's mouth. Sherlock smiled briefly.

"Master Jinn, if I told you, you would have no choice but to take John from me." Sherlock went to his padawan and collected him against his chest. John squirmed into a more comfortable position, then was once more was sleeping soundly.

His medication made him extremely weary.

The knight noted the mild expression on his elder's face and smirked. "It was nothing Lestrade didn't do for me."

"Strangely, my young friend, that does not instill confidence in me," Qui Gon said softly.

Sherlock shrugged. "I did what was forbidden, and I would happily do it again to see him healthy."

John gave the smallest of yawns, turning his face into Sherlock's strong chest. The hostile look slid from the knight's face, but his emotionless mask seated itself back across its usual spot.

But Qui Gon noticed his eyes were shining.

"You told him then."

"Yes," Sherlock said simply.

"How long before Greg told you?"

"Under a year," the curt reply. "It-I had a nightmare. He was being soothing."

"He meant it, youngling."

Sherlock flinched at the term he used to be stern with John. "Perhaps."

Qui Gon gave his best friend's padawan a strong pat on the shoulder before departing.

Sherlock carried his parcel into his room, the boy was plagued beyond reason with nightmares. He refused to be parted from either his bear or his master at night.

And for the time being Sherlock could deny his padawan nothing.

"Little one, it is time for bed. You should fetch your pajamas, and you must take your medicine."

The boy pouted against his chest, the lower lip trembled at the thought of being moved from his relaxing position.

Sherlock set him on the edge of the bed and depantsed him, he removed the boy's only tunic, and replaced it with a much larger one. After departing to find John's medication and a glass of water, he came back to discover the boy had fallen back asleep. His fingers clenched in their duvet, leaving the rest of his body curled in the tightest ball Sherlock had ever seen. He looked around the age of five, no more than six.

How had anyone been able to hurt something so small?

So young?

He roused the boy long enough to take his pills and swallow a glass of water. John pushed himself forward into Sherlock's arms, not giving the elder a chance to discard the empty glass. A small head nuzzled underneath Sherlock's strong chin, the knight laid calming hands on the young back.

"You're not making this easy, padawan," he said gently.

John made no sound as he fell back to sleep.

Yes Sherlock had broken the code. Viscously rejected it for the health of his padawan.

John had been inconsolable when he had first been brought home. He followed his master around like a kicked puppy, flinching at too fast a movement, and sobbing at any annoyed tone Sherlock had used.

But for the first time in his life, the knight was patient.

John was allowed to follow him, and Sherlock took care to keep at a leisurely pace so his child could follow. With every flinch the boy made, Sherlock knelt down and gave soft touches. A gentle touch of the cheek, a soft hand passed tenderly over an ear, sometimes he would simply pull the child into his arms and hold him. At the times when his patience wore too thin, he would steady himself and speak in a softer tone. His padawan need him to be calm and kind.

He was good at neither, but for John he would try.

And then finally, his padawan snapped.

Ranting and raving that Sherlock must surely hate him, for he was an unworthy apprentice. Sherlock was so smart, and he so dull.

The knight had dropped to his knees in front of the breaking innocence and held him gently.

The trembling child doubted the hold and squirmed viscously. He claimed Sherlock could cast him aside, and he would understand. Sherlock buried his face in the healthy side of the young boy's neck and shook his head.

And then had broken the code.

"I love you," he whispered. "I do not hate you, I do not wish for a smarter padawan. You are clever, and smart, and mine. You will be a fine Jedi someday, little one, but even though you are small and still learning I am proud of you. I do not hate you, John. I love you."

The code shattered around the embracing Jedi, but Sherlock had never felt more sure of his actions.

After he had been whipped as child all he wanted was his mother to tell him she loved him. He wanted any one to hold him and say he was loved. When put at the end of a punishment, it was impossible to feel like any person in the world loved him.

And John would never feel like that.

"B-but Jedi can't…" John murmured. Watery eyes found Sherlock's, and for a brief moment his padawan looked like he was choking on air. "I love you too, Master."

"You are mine," Sherlock said in a low primal voice. He hoisted the child into the air, cradling him softly. The fabric of John's bandages scrapped against his teacher's bare chest. Sherlock had taken his padawan to wash in their large marble tub.

John clung to him greedily the whole time.

"We cannot say it again, little one," Sherlock said gently as he poured water cautiously over John's wound.

"I understand," John said quietly, he slowly peeked up at his master. "But I do love you. A lot." His movements were slow and nervous, but he twisted around to hide himself against Sherlock's chest. The knight very tenderly stroked his hair.

"I love you too, padawan."

Always.


End file.
